


Called to a Home I Never Had

by miera



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Romance, Character Death, Demisexual Jaime Lannister, F/M, Past Abuse, Past Incest, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting, happy ending i swear, not for cersei fans, so much goddamned pining, this was supposed to be a romcom but it got complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: The first time Captain Jaime Lannister met the princess of Tarth, it would charitably have been described as a trainwreck. Modern royalty AU.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 295
Kudos: 366





	1. I wasn't looking for you

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started with a silly romcom premise and then turned into a massive amount of angst and pining with some occasional silliness. I have no idea what happened. It'll all be okay in the end, I promise. I've also been writing it for more than a year and it's not entirely done yet, so this is a WIP & last time I posted one I abandoned it read at your own risk. 
> 
> Fic and chapter titles from "Heal Me" by Snow Patrol and I refuse to apologize.

The first time Captain Jaime Lannister met the princess of Tarth, it would charitably have been described as a trainwreck.

He was hungover and seething after a bitter argument with his twin sister. She had manipulated their father into pulling strings for Jaime to be put on leave – while his men were engaged in war games with some counterparts in Braavos, no less – to attend an "important Lannister family function" which was nothing but some gods forsaken benefit dinner that he'd never been at in his life. So Jaime spent the previous night drinking while his father quietly needled him about his military career and dragged the mess with Aerys Targaryen up yet again. Then he'd run into Cersei and they ended up screaming at each other until she slapped his face and walked out. 

He needed to vent and his little brother was his only option. 

Tyrion had occupied the same run-down basement office in the humanities building at King's Landing University since he started teaching there as a graduate assistant. There were three tiny faculty offices off the main area, which was full of beaten up desks for student workers. Tywin Lannister would have been horrified to see his son in such surroundings, if he had ever deigned to notice his youngest child at all. 

Once their father made clear that he would never take Tyrion seriously as a potential heir to control of Lannister Enterprises, Tyrion had metaphorically flipped Tywin off and immersed himself in classics and history. He was an instructor right now because he was dragging his feet on finishing his dissertation, but Jaime expected he'd be running the entire program within a decade. 

Tyrion's office door was shut, to Jaime's frustration; it sounded like he was on a phone call inside. Bronn, his brother's driver/bodyguard, was on a chair off in the corner, but the man's attention was on an older gentleman in a black leather jacket who was standing in the space between the door to the outer office and the student leaning on the other desk. The man's posture and attire were practically screaming "bodyguard," unlike Bronn, who always looked like he was trying to disappear into the furniture. 

Was this guy here for Tyrion? Bronn didn't look like he was ready to pitch the other man out the door, but why else would he be here? The only other person in the waiting area was a student clearly waiting to talk to Tyrion, dressed in faded jeans and a loose, heavy sweatshirt. The kid was tall, long legs, light blonde hair, but as he shifted Jaime realized he was wrong.

 _That's a woman_ , he thought, his jaw dropping open. She was nearly as tall as him and her shoulders might actually have been wider than his, which was saying something. 

Black Jacket had noticed Jaime's staring and that must have tipped the girl off because she flashed a look at him. Jaime caught his first glimpse of the most astonishing blue eyes he'd ever seen. She straightened up and gods, she might have been taller than Jaime. 

"Well, aren't you just a great beast of a woman," came flying out of his mouth just as Tyrion's door opened. 

The girl flushed, her face going blotchy under her freckles. Black Jacket stiffened and moved to put himself between Jaime and the girl. "Your highness, perhaps we should leave."

"Highness?" Jaime asked, stunned. 

Tyrion looked pained. "Jaime, this is Brienne, princess of Tarth and daughter of King Selwyn." 

"I didn't know Tarth had a king."

"It does," intoned Black Jacket, looking very much like he'd enjoy smashing Jaime's face into the scarred linoleum floor. 

Jaime's temper was already up and this geezer rumbling at him wasn't helping. But he focused on the girl again, the easy target, and smirked. "Are you sure? You seem more the serving wench type to me."

She lurched to her feet and yep, she was taller than Jaime, corded muscles bulging in her arms, ready to punch him into next week. With the way she was holding herself, Jaime realized, she probably could do it too.

Her bodyguard put a hand on her shoulder and said something in a low voice. Brienne nodded, holding out a paper to Tyrion.

He took the paper and sighed. "My apologies, Brienne. As you've probably deduced, this is, unfortunately, my older brother, the charming Captain Jaime Lannister." 

Those blue eyes took his measure and something lit up inside of them, something that made Jaime's nerves twitch. But he watched silently as she licked her lips – he'd replay that later, more often than he would care to admit – and said with a malicious smirk, "Oh yes. The Kingslayer." 

Jaime recoiled. Almost no one dared use that nickname to his face. He wasn't ready to hear it from some college student who was, however improbably, a princess. He had no quip available to respond to it and she marched out of the office in triumph, the bodyguard lingering to glare menacingly at Jaime as he followed. 

Once they were gone, Bronn let out a low whistle and shook his head, going back to the newspaper he was holding. Tyrion glared at Jaime before stalking into his office.

Jaime followed, closing the door and sitting in the hard wooden chair across from his brother. "So one of your students is a princess. You never mentioned."

"I don't discuss the private information of my students with anyone outside of my colleagues," Tyrion snapped. Jaime was taken aback by the anger in his brother's voice. "Brienne is one of my best graduate students. I'm advising her on her thesis, and hoping she'll continue and get her doctorate in the program here." Tyrion folded his hands across his middle and stared at Jaime. "We've bonded, you see, as we both have first-hand experience of how the world treats people who aren't what they expect them to be." 

Jaime felt the blood drain from his face. He'd just done to this girl what he hated everyone else doing to his little brother, without even thinking about it. He rubbed his face with both hands. "Fuck."

"Indeed. I'd suggest you apologize, but I suspect neither Brienne or Goodwin, her impressive personal bodyguard, won't allow you within 50 feet of her ever again." 

He nodded. "I'm sorry." It wasn't an apology to the girl.

Tyrion looked at him for a moment before he sighed. "If you should cross paths with her again, please try not to be such a raging asshole." 

"I'll do my best?" They shared a wry smile at that. "So Tarth still has a noble house? I didn't realize."

"Yes. Tarth resisted joining the Commonwealth for a long while. It was far more significant a nation before the aerospace age, given its harbors, so they remained independent longer than most nations. They finally joined at the same time as the Iron Islands, under similar terms, which meant they got to keep their titles. It's mostly ceremonial, of course, in this day and age. And knowing Brienne's love of martial arts and fencing, I'm not sure she really needs the bodyguards other than for paparazzi." 

Jaime had only been half-listening, as another thought had occurred to him. "She knew about the Kingslayer." Off Tyrion's look, he added, "Most people outside the Army don't know much about Aerys or what happened to him. The Targaryens were invested in keeping the whole thing as quiet as possible." Jaime usually only heard his nickname in whispers behind his back in the barracks or the mess hall. The Army brass and Aerys's family as well as his father had all had a vested interest in selling the story that the Targaryen heir had died in honorable service.

"Brienne has an older brother," Tyrion replied after a moment. "He's in the Army, serving up north. Galladon Tarth. I'm sure you'd remember if you'd seen him, and now you'd better hope you never do. Judging by his sister, he's probably at least six and a half feet and likely _also_ built like a brick shithouse, and more than capable of putting you in the dirt for insulting his little sister."

"Let's hope I don't run into the lad, then."

*~*~*~*~*

He did run into the older Tarth sibling, of course, about four months after his rough first encounter with Brienne. 

Jaime was sent on a temporary duty assignment to the fucking Wall as retribution for mouthing off to Colonel Tarly. Lieutenant Marbrand had technically violated the rules during a war gaming maneuver with the Bravossi and Jaime took exception to his men being punished for being creative. In a real combat situation, he pointed out loudly, there were no such rules to be obeyed and original thinking could be a huge advantage. 

Tarly, as everyone in the room knew, had never been in a live combat situation, and he had thundered and threatened to have Jaime charged with insubordination over the comment until Major Dayne had to do something to placate the old codger. Jaime wasn't even mad at Dayne; it was the usual Army bullshit. 

So Jaime went to freeze his balls off for a few weeks up in the north. The first time he caught sight of a blond- haired, blue-eyed giant in the mess hall, he realized there was nobody else it could be but Galladon Tarth.

By the end of his first week, Jaime already knew Lieutenant Tarth was a good soldier. He was the strongest man in his unit just by virtue of his size, but he used his bulk to stop shit rather than start it. He was smart and steady, two things Jaime couldn't have said about himself at the same age, and was well liked if considered something of a septon by his friends (apparently during their last visit to Dorne, Tarth had spent most of his time getting his drunken comrades home rather than enjoying the pleasures of Sunspear's less respectable quarters). 

Still, Jaime remembered Brienne throwing his nickname at him and drawing blood and he wondered.

He found Galladon sitting in a corner of the mess hall one evening, reading. Jaime helped himself to hot chocolate, which made him feel like he was five again but it was autumn and the soldiers on the Wall sought out any warm beverage they could get. The kid started to come to attention when Jaime sat down across from him but he waved and settled in. "So, you're Selwyn Tarth's son?"

"Yes, sir."

"We're off the clock, Tarth, it's just Lannister, or Jaime." 

The lad looked a bit wary still. "All right."

With no idea how to bring up what he wanted to know, Jaime did what he had always done: jumped in and hoped for the best. "I met your sister a few months ago."

Tarth's eyes, large and blue but not quite as impressive as Brienne's, lit up. "You did? Where? I haven't seen her since the end of last year."

"My brother teaches at KLU. He's her thesis advisor." 

"Oh, right, she told me about him. He thinks she should keep going, maybe get her PhD and teach." Tarth shook his head. "Our dad would definitely be happier if she did." 

"Was she thinking of doing something else?"

Galladon's next words shocked Jaime completely. "She wanted to enlist. We used to joke about serving together." 

Brienne in the Army? There were plenty of women Jaime served with, including Private Mormont in his own unit back in Braavos. Somehow he could see Brienne in fatigues and slinging a rifle over her large shoulder just as easily as her brother. 

Galladon glanced around the dark room and shook his head. "My Dad doesn't want her to do it, though. He didn't really want me to join up, even if it's exactly what he did, but things were different back then." 

Jaime nodded. When Selwyn Tarth was young, there was a war on. The world was more complicated than that now. 

They talked a bit and exchanged some stories. Galladon was too friendly to be harboring some secret hatred for him, so Brienne clearly didn't tell her big brother about the asshole she met who insulted her looks in front of her professor. Jaime selfishly hoped to keep it that way. "I notice you don't have a bodyguard following you around."

Galladon rolled his eyes. "Like I need that? Brie doesn't really need Goodwin either, except she got friendly with a few of the other girls at KLU who are from old houses and the paparazzi like to follow them around. We didn't have that on Tarth growing up and Dad got spooked." 

Jaime grinned. "So you and your sister didn't have a bunch of servants following you around when you were children to protect the prince and princess from scraping their knees?" 

Galladon's eyes darted around. "Please keep your voice down. Sir."

"Surely someone else has put two and two together and realized there's a true-born prince in our midst?" 

The lad scrubbed a hand over his head. "I try to avoid bringing it up. I'm not here to play the lord of the manor. I'm here to do my duty, nothing more or less." 

If he had heard that from most people, Jaime would have scoffed, but for some reason, coming from Galladon, it was completely believable. 

*~*~*~*~*

The second time he met Brienne, Jaime was sober and in King's Landing for training rather than due to his sister's bullshit, so he was in a much better mood. He was also in uniform, which generally had a good effect on his self-control. 

Similar to last time, Brienne was perched on one of the ancient desks outside Tyrion's office. She was dressed differently, in leggings and tall boots underneath a sweater that clung to her shoulders. Her bodyguard was seated on a sofa and Bronn was nowhere in sight today. Tyrion's door was closed again, this time meeting with a student.

He hesitated for a moment as Brienne clearly recognized him but didn't speak, keeping her eyes facing the wall. He thought about calling her by title but he was trying to mend fences, not make things worse, so he settled for nodding at her with his most charming smile. "Miss Tarth. It's lovely to see you again."

"Captain." No response to his attempted courtesy. Not that he really expected one.

Jaime tried again. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." 

She pointedly did not ask how he was faring, but her face had flushed pink and Jaime just couldn't resist.

"I’m well myself. Very glad to be back in the warmth of the south." He waited a beat, watching as Brienne visibly restrained herself from responding and then added, "I've been up at the Wall for the last few months, you see."

Her head swung to look at him. _Got her._ The only thing she said was a small "Oh?" but he took the win. She was talking to him, at least.

"Yes, I was fortunate enough to meet your brother while I was stationed there." 

Brienne tensed just a bit, as if preparing to hear something bad. She couldn't quite keep herself silent this time, though. "How was he?"

"He's doing well. Freezing, of course, but-"

"It's the Wall," she said at the same time he said did. The corners of her lips turned up slightly before she remembered who she was talking to. But at least the ice was broken.

Jaime leaned against the desk across from her. "He's a good lad, and a good soldier. He's going to make a damn fine officer someday. You should be proud."

That was the first time Jaime saw Brienne smile. It changed her face, lighting her up, especially her eyes. 

The memory of his initial words to her swamped him with guilt and he looked down at his feet. "I wanted to apologize for my conduct the last time we encountered each other. I was angry at someone else and I shouldn't have taken it out on you." 

When he met her eyes again, Brienne was staring at him expectantly. "Well?"

Jaime bristled. "Well what?"

"You didn't actually do it yet," she pointed out. "You said you wanted to apologize, but…"

Jaime groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, all right?" 

"For?" Despite the tone, there was another tiny smile lurking around her mouth, like she was enjoying this.

Deep down, Jaime knew he was enjoying it too. But he folded his arms across his chest and said, his voice grouchy, "I'm sorry for insulting you. It was… unworthy to speak to you the way I did."

Her expression became rueful. "Unworthy for speaking to princess, you mean."

"No, for speaking to you."

She blinked those astonishing blue eyes at him and he felt something in his chest stir in response. 

Before he could think about that any further, Jaime asked her about her fencing team. Galladon had bragged quite a bit about his sister's medals and becoming captain of the campus team when she was a sophomore. Jaime had been on his own university's team back in the day, but the Army rarely allowed him much time for it. They chatted about fencing and sword fighting until her friend came out of Tyrion's office, and Brienne invited Jaime to come practice with the team "whenever he felt up to the challenge."

She did not call him "old man" to his face, but he felt like the words were clearly implied.

The next night he walked into the athletic center on campus and found the fencing team sparring in a practice room. Even as Jaime strapped on some protective gear, he had a feeling he was in over his head. 

But he held his own against his first two opponents. He was rusty as hell, but his height and reach did a lot to help him out until he finally faced Brienne. 

She was beyond good, and she didn't hold back. Jaime suspected that maybe there was some payback in it when she attacked him full force right away, not that he blamed her. He was disarmed in two minutes. He picked up his foil and they started again. He couldn't stop the grin on his face. He'd forgotten the thrill of this kind of fight, the steps and the speed of it, letting everything else fall away but the blades clashing together. 

After his third loss he admitted to himself that Brienne probably could have beaten him even if they'd fought when he was her age.

The rest of the team finished up practice while they were still going at it, both of them throwing every trick they had at the other one. Brienne finally grappled with him outright, disarming him and knocking his knee out and forcing him onto his back, her foil pointed at his throat. 

She was flushed, her blue eyes sparkling as she ordered him to yield.

"I yield, your highness."

Brienne frowned at him. "How is it possible that sounds even more disrespectful than-" She cut herself off but Jaime smirked. 

"Wench?"

She blushed even harder and Jaime felt a distinct twitch below his waist. Then he mentally slammed that door shut as hard as he could. He had nearly a decade on her and she was his brother's student. His body was just reacting to the fight, that was all, he wouldn't even entertain any other possibility. 

*~*~*~*~*

He was back on the base in Braavos when he had the first dream about Brienne. She had popped up in his dreams occasionally, a face in the background, but this dream was different.

They were in a huge bed, covered improbably in furs and set before a roaring fireplace. Brienne was spread out beneath him, her skin flushed pink against the pillows, blue eyes staring up at him filled with desire. In the dream he could feel her fantastic legs wrapped all the way around him, her hands grasping at his hips trying to hurry him up. He moved inside of her tight heat, slow and steady, telling her he was never going to stop fucking her. He could feel the tension in his spine as he watched her head fall back and heard her cry out as he made her come.

He woke up disoriented and achingly aroused. It was after two in the morning. He didn't think about it, just shoved his hand inside his boxers and stroked himself. It took barely anything, just a few pumps of his hand and the memory of the dream and he came so hard he grunted out loud. (Military life trained a man to come quietly or risk being the object of jokes for the rest of your life. Thankfully he had a room to himself here.)

He fell back asleep almost immediately, so in the morning he was left to deal with the mess in his shorts. He felt relaxed and almost content at first, but as the day wore on, he started to get uneasy.

On the rare occasions he fantasized about a particular woman, it was usually an actress or maybe someone he'd met in passing at most. The anonymity of it made him feel safer. This was the first time he'd ever fantasized about a woman who was his friend, which was probably strange for a man of 35. 

Also there was the age gap. Brienne was nearly ten years younger than him. Did this make him a creep? A middle aged man jerking off to thoughts of a graduate student certainly felt like something only a pervert would do. 

Sansa Stark had clearly suspected Jaime of something like that when they met in Tyrion's office. She had glared the entire time Jaime was typing Brienne's number into his phone. It was only so Brienne could text Jaime about the fencing team practice, completely innocent. Jaime had been angry until he remembered that Cat Stark had still been public friends with Petyr Baelish basically until the day the man was finally arrested for trafficking underage girls. Sansa maybe had reasons to be hostile. 

He went to bed that night half-hoping he'd have another dream, half-praying he wouldn't. 

He made an appointment to see the base counselor later that week and after screwing up his courage admitted to the dream and his fears. 

"I think you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself over a single dream," the man said after Jaime was done. "I know you rarely feel sexually attracted to anyone, but it's a natural enough occurrence. It doesn't have to mean anything more significant than that you feel desire for this woman."

"She's a girl," Jaime repeated. "Isn't it creepy to be thinking about having sex with someone that much younger than me?"

"What exactly do you find attractive about her?" Jaime squirmed. Even now, after more than a decade of therapy, he still felt a rush of shame when he considered being attracted to another person. "Try to sort out what specifically is making you feel this way."

"Uh, well, she's smart. Strong. We sparred the last time I was in the city, fencing. She's incredibly good. And she's patient and kind." She had put up with him so far, that was for certain.

The other man wasn't going to let him dodge out of this. "And what about physically?"

"Her eyes," Jaime said right away. They were certainly Brienne's most notable feature. "Um, her legs are…" _Amazing._ He could feel his neck and ears getting hot. "Nice. Long. There are… she has freckles on her skin." He could picture himself kissing her neck, following all of her freckles down between her breasts. Shit. He didn't really need more fodder for his fantasies.

The counselor smiled slightly. "And does any of that have anything to do with age?"

Oh. He hadn't thought of it that way. "So what's turning me on about her isn't anything to do with a power imbalance?"

"Something like that."


	2. There's a siren somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's friendship with Brienne grows deeper, but coping with his feelings is still a challenge. 
> 
> This entire fic is from Jaime's POV, so everything will be from his perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter contains some descriptions of violence including attempted rape and burning. Mild compared to the canon content, but please read with caution.

One of the constants in the Army was change, Jaime was well aware of that. Word came that Arthur Dayne was being promoted to Colonel and given command of the base in Lannisport. Jaime was glad for his mentor but slightly pissed. He wouldn't be going with Dayne, not immediately anyway, which meant Jaime was left at the mercy of Tarly.

The old crank seemed to feel Jaime hadn't been punished enough, because he started treating Jaime as his personal errand boy, sending him on repeated short TDAs for stupid shit. The only upside of it was that Jaime was in King's Landing more frequently, so he got to see Tyrion more often.

If his visits to the city regularly involved meeting his little brother at his office on the off chance of running into a certain blue-eyed princess, he would never admit it. He definitely wouldn't acknowledge the disappointment that ate at him when he didn't see her at all during one trip. 

On his next stopover, he texted Brienne directly. He asked about the fencing club, figuring it was the most innocuous way to suggest spending time with him. He was momentarily crushed when her reply came back that there was no practice that week. 

Then she offered to meet him anyway, so they could spar one on one. He knew it wouldn't be just the two of them; her bodyguard would be there. It was just as well. Some of his dreams involved them starting out with swords in their hands and then grappling in a very different way. 

Tyrion pestered him with questions until Jaime admitted where he was going, then Jaime announced he was going to get coffee just to get away from his brother's smirking. 

He and Brienne spent nearly two hours fighting in the practice room at the athletic center. Jaime tried to bury his nervousness in focusing on the sword in his hand and the intricate dance going on in front of him. It was exhilarating, and he knew it would feed his hidden fantasies for weeks if not months.

They'd finally called it quits and were rehashing some of the moves when Brienne's cell phone rang. She dug through her bag and pulled the phone out just as the ringing stopped. She started to put the phone down but it rang again. "Sansa?"

Jaime couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but it was immediately apparent that something was wrong. Brienne began firing off questions. "Where are you? Are you hurt? I'm on my way, stay there, stay on the phone, okay?" 

She began to shove her belongings into her bag. Jaime helped as Goodwin approached, an obvious question on his face. 

"Sansa's hurt. She's on a street corner in Flea Bottom. I need to get there right now-"

Jaime held up a hand. "Where's your car?"

"It's back at the apartment."

"I'm in the visitor's lot, is that closer?" When Goodwin nodded, Jaime grabbed his things. "I'll drive. Come on."

Brienne hesitated, looking at him in a way that felt like she was seeing into his soul. She went back to the phone. "We're on our way, just stay on the line with me." 

Brienne's alarm was contagious and it snapped Jaime into battle readiness. Every detail was sharpened. He noted every person heading through the hallway, walking around the parking lot, the number of lights they passed walking to his car. 

Once they were in the car, Brienne shared what had happened. Sansa had gone on a dinner date, but the guy had driven her to a vacant lot and tried to force himself on her. When she fought back, he drove into one of the shittiest neighborhoods in Flea Bottom and then shoved her out of the moving car. 

Her purse had been left behind in the car, but she had been holding her phone when she hit the pavement. Two prostitutes working on a nearby corner had helped her up.

All of that was terrible enough, but as Jaime broke every traffic law he thought he could get away with, Brienne's tension ratcheted up another notch as she heard Sansa's date, Ramsay Bolton, come back through the phone.

When Jaime screeched his rental car to a stop he saw Sansa struggling with Bolton on the sidewalk in front of a vacant building. Two other women were yelling at the man; one was already bleeding, while the other tried to hit him with her purse to get him away from Sansa.

Brienne charged out of the car, murder in her eyes, leaving Jaime cursing and throwing off the seat belt trying to follow her. Goodwin was a step behind Brienne but she was taller and the older man couldn't quite catch up before Brienne hauled back and punched Bolton straight in the face. 

He let go of Sansa, shaking off the punch. Jaime watched as Bolton started for Brienne, and Jaime saw red.

Goodwin pulled Brienne and Sansa both back, putting himself between the girls and Bolton.  
That was good, it left Jaime free to focus on the threat. He stepped around the bodyguard, dodging the punch Bolton attempted to throw and backhanding the man across the face, knocking him back a few steps. 

Bolton pushed himself upright. Blood was trickling out of his mouth, and he was smirking, sizing up Jaime.

But Jaime wasn't there. He was in the desert, sweating in panic, and it was Aerys Targaryen laughing while blood bubbled up over his lips.

"Jaime!"

He jumped back to the present at the sound of Brienne shouting. Bolton made a second attempt at hitting him. Jaime blocked it more from muscle memory than anything else. They grappled for a few seconds before Jaime got the man lined up. 

The punch used all the force of his larger body and struck Bolton square in the face. The idiot didn't go down, so Jaime punched him again.

And again.

And again.

Bolton doubled over and Jaime grasped the back of his jacket and rammed his knee into the other man's ribs. The sound of bone cracking was audible.

Jaime took a step forward as Bolton crumpled to the ground, blood still roaring in his veins. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he spun, ready to fight the next enemy, but it was Goodwin. "Captain? That's enough." 

His rank snapped him out of it, brought back logic and reason. Bolton was down and not getting back up. The threat was neutralized. He looked back at the four women staring at him.

Sansa was wide-eyed and still staring at Bolton. The two prostitutes were eyeing Jaime warily, glad that one danger was over but leery of him at the same time.

It was Brienne's face that he sought, though. Her eyes were sharp as steel even as she kept her arms around Sansa protectively. She looked from Bolton to Jaime and gave him a nod. There was no fear in her face, just satisfaction. 

"Is she badly hurt?" he asked Brienne, nodding at Sansa.

Brienne checked her friend's wounds. "She's got a bad cut on her arm, road rash on her legs. Plus the cut on her head." Blood was trailing down the side of Sansa's pale face. Brienne met his eyes. "She needs medical attention." Sirens were approaching, still distant, but getting nearer. 

Sansa shook her head. "No. No, if my parents find out… oh gods, if _Robb_ finds out, he'll kill Ramsay. We can't report this!" 

"You need a doctor," Brienne said to her. "And this asshole needs to go to jail for this."

Sansa's face was wild with fear and she kept muttering about her parents. Jaime stepped toward her. "Sansa, he'll do it again. He's probably done this to other girls before. He'll keep doing it. Men like this don't stop _until someone stops them_. Do you understand?"

The poor girl looked up at him and then over at Brienne, who tightened her grip on Sansa's shoulder. "I'll be right there with you, every step. Jaime's right, you can stop him." The police would listen to a Stark, Jaime knew. Her father was a senior member of Parliament, the right hand of the Prime Minister. And Brienne and Goodwin's eye witness accounts would help, as would Jaime's. 

He could see Sansa straighten her back, then immediately regret it as it pulled at some injury, but she bit her lip and nodded at them. "All right." 

The police were almost there. Jaime hunted through Bolton's pockets for his wallet. The man swiped at Jaime feebly, but Jaime just extracted all the cash and put the wallet back. 

He grabbed his own wallet and added more money. When they were younger, one of Tywin's most common threats was to freeze his children's accounts if they misbehaved. Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion had all taken to carrying more cash than most people did, since a credit card could be stopped without warning. 

He walked over to the prostitutes and held the money out to the older one. She looked at the wad of cash longingly but glared back at him. "You don't need to pay us to tell the truth," she snapped at him. "We didn't help her looking for a payout." 

"It's not that. You should tell the cops what you saw. This is so you can take the rest of tonight off, and get those injuries taken care of properly." Bolton had clearly roughed them both up in the fighting, and Boltons weren't known for leaving loose ends. The other girl looked even younger than Sansa and Brienne. Jaime went back to that gods forsaken desert again, a girl shaking in fear against a brick wall and staring at him like she wasn't sure if he was going to kill her or help her.

He blinked the image away. The older woman took the cash and split it up just in time to hide it before a cop car pulled up.

An ambulance followed shortly thereafter. The medics got Bolton onto a gurney and into the vehicle, then one of them took a quick look at Sansa and agreed she needed stitches and x-rays. All of them gave statements to the weary-looking detective who arrived, and then Jaime drove Sansa, Brienne and Goodwin to the hospital. 

Brienne wouldn't leave her friend and Goodwin couldn't leave Brienne, so it fell to Jaime to sit in the waiting room and greet both Ned and Catelyn Stark when they arrived, pale and frantic with fear. 

Ned and Jaime's father disliked each other intensely, but with Jaime's twin sister married to Ned's best friend, they crossed paths more than either would like. Jaime had always felt like Ned was judging him. Stark had been a soldier once, with Robert Baratheon back in the day, and he still had friends among the Army brass. He'd probably heard some version of the Kingslayer story but like most people, he never bothered to ask Jaime what had really happened.

Jaime sometimes forgot that for about five minutes when he was in high school he had technically dated Catelyn's younger sister, at his father's instigation. He and Lysa hadn't liked each other very much. They went out to dinner a few times mostly to make their respective parents happy before "breaking up." Catelyn had never liked him either, so Jaime was about the last person either of the Starks wanted to see. It was evident on their faces when he intercepted them, but he had a job to do. 

"She's all right. She's got some cuts and bruises, but there are no major physical injuries," he told them. Both Ned and Cat shot him a look over the use of the word "physical" but Jaime knew plenty about trauma, and he knew Sansa wasn't going to get over what had happened to her tonight any time soon. That Bolton hadn't been able to actually rape her didn't mean it was going to be easier. "Brienne is with her." 

He told them where to go and got out of the way. His body ached, from the exertion and from the adrenaline leaving his system. Not long after they disappeared down the hallway, Brienne wandered back out, her bodyguard in her wake. She sank into the chair next to Jaime.

After a minute, her fingers brushed over his hand. "You should put an ice pack on this." His knuckles were swollen and bruised. 

He twitched his hand away from her. "It's fine. I've had worse." 

He could feel Brienne glaring at the side of his head in her stubborn way. Goodwin vanished and returned with a blue ice pack, and a bottle of juice. Jaime sighed heavily but put the ice pack on top of his fingers and started drinking the juice, the sugar helping his body settle from the adrenaline. _When was the last time anyone other than my own unit took care of me?_

The bodyguard moved a short distance away. He could feel Brienne still staring at him.

"Thank you, for-"

"Don't," he snapped. "I don't need to be thanked for this. I'm just sorry nobody did it earlier." 

He saw her nod of agreement in his peripheral vision. He didn't want to think about how many other girls Ramsay Bolton had had the chance to hurt before now. 

"Are you all right? It's just- before, when you were confronting him, what you said, and you… it looked like you were somewhere else." His jaw dropped. How in the seven hells did she know that? "You were, weren't you."

He let his head fall back against the wall and nodded. "Kingslayer." 

He heard Brienne's gasp and looked at her again. Her beautiful blue eyes were searching his face, but she didn't speak, didn't ask him.

Why did he care so much about what she thought of him? 

Jaime looked down at his feet, keeping his voice low. "Aerys Targaryen was insane. I'm not saying that to be hyperbolic. He was batshit crazy. He had no business being in the Army, let alone in a combat unit handling weapons. I had heard stories since I joined the unit, about the shit he did. He had this lighter, it had a dragon engraved on it. Said it was his grandfather's. Aerys would light things on fire just for fun. There were rumors about him burning women – prostitutes, usually, especially overseas. People who were easy to pay off with his family's money." He shifted, uncomfortable. Plenty of people had thought that about Jaime over the years. Ramsay Bolton had benefited from the same privilege.

"He'd gone crazy and attacked Brandon Stark one time when they were young and that got hushed up by his family." Yet another reason Jaime disliked Ned Stark. He of all people should have known how dangerous Aerys was after what happened to his brother. "But his father was the prime minister, he was untouchable.

"We were in Mereen, my first combat tour, scouting a village for a rebel group the brass thought might be hiding there. A few of the teenage boys were resisting during the sweep, and while the rest of our unit was busy with that, I saw Aerys grab this girl and drag her around the back of one of the houses. I followed him."

Jaime closed his eyes, the memory playing out in front of him. The girl hadn't been all that much younger than he had been at the time. "He was waving the open lighter at the girl, his other hand over her mouth. He made her lift her skirt up. I knew he was going to rape her. I raised my weapon and told him to let the girl go. He looked right at me and the son of a bitch _smiled_. Then he pressed the lighter to her clothes."

Jaime blinked. Tears were forming in his eyes. He hadn't relived this for a while, and the memory of the smell of burning flesh always made him want to throw up. Brienne's hand reached out and rested on his forearm. Her skin was cooler than his and the contact helped him stay in the present.

"She went up so fast, screaming and throwing herself into the sand. I dropped my weapon to pull off my jacket so I could smother the flames. I just barely got the fire out when I realized Aerys was raising his gun at me. I tackled him, knocked his weapon away. He tried to grab for my handgun. I grabbed it too and it went off. It was angled at him and the bullet hit him in the stomach." Two inches in the other direction and it would have been Jaime who got shot in the gut.

"Belly wounds are bad news. We were too far away from base even if we could've evac'd him immediately. He bled to death right there."

He finally turned to look at Brienne again, who was now staring at him in horror. "He laughed. He kept reaching for the lighter. He wanted me to set him on fire before he died. The fucker died laughing and babbling about coming back as a fucking dragon."

They were both quiet while Jaime fought to put the memories back in their proper box. Brienne's hand was still on his arm, her thumb moving back and forth against his skin.

"What happened to the girl?"

"She was taken to the military hospital. She had some scars but mostly on her arm and her side. I got the fire out fast enough that they were only second-degree burns. I got taken into custody, because-" he stopped himself from mentioning Dayne by name. "One of the officers found the whole mess. Aerys had been shot, and I was holding the weapon, they had to take me, so everyone knew I'd been there. But my commander spoke to the girl when she woke up and she backed up my story. I wasn't charged with anything, but I got a black mark in my record and my next promotion was withheld."

"And the Prime Minister's son needed to die a hero," Brienne added in a whisper. "So they invented the story about him being hit by a sniper."

Bitterness flooded him unexpectedly. "Yes. And my family is hated enough that people started to invent stories about me shooting Aerys in the back, that I'd planned the whole thing, that I was the one trying to rape the girl and Aerys surprised me and I killed him to keep it quiet." That last rumor was the one that had truly enraged him. "Like I wanted to be there? Like I wanted that poor girl to get attacked and burned? He shouldn't have been there at all. By that point he should've been in a hospital somewhere drugged into immobility." 

Up close, her blue eyes were full of fear and disgust, but it was not aimed at Jaime anymore. "Why did you tell me all of this, Jaime?"

Jaime couldn't answer that question to her any more than he could to himself. "Do you believe me?" he said instead.

She nodded. Jaime's heart slowed down for the first time all evening. 

*~*~*~*~*

As Jaime had guessed, once it was reported that Ramsay Bolton was in jail and staying there, denied bail due to being a flight risk, several other women came forward to testify that he had assaulted them too. Jaime had to fill out multiple reports about his part in the incident and talk to his family's lawyer. He told the dour looking man to do whatever he could legally to ensure Bolton's conviction. 

His father called and left an irritated voice message berating Jaime for behaving like a "street corner ruffian" without saying a thing about protecting a young woman from being attacked, of course. 

Jaime kept an eye on the case through news reports from the base back in Bravos. He didn't hear from Brienne until she learned Galladon was being transferred.

Brienne: Gal's being transferred to a new unit in Braavos.  
Brienne: Isn't that where you are?

Jaime smirked a bit. He knew what she wanted to know. 

Jaime: Yep. 

There was a pause.

Brienne: And?

He could almost picture the mulish expression on her face. 

Jaime: Relax, your highness. No strings were pulled. 

She wasn't buying it. 

Brienne: So it's completely a coincidence?  
Jaime: I didn't say that.  
Jaime: I mentioned some names to my CO when we were talking about replacing some empty slots, that's it.  
Jaime: I didn't give the order.

He also hadn't actually mentioned any names other than Lieutenant Tarth's but Brienne didn't need to know that. 

Brienne: Well at least he'll be in less danger of freezing to death.  
Brienne: And he's being given leave so I'll finally get to see him.  
Brienne: thank you  
Jaime: Wasn't my call but you're welcome.  
Jaime: Actually never mind I'll take the credit I could use having the future king of Tarth and his sister owing me a favor.  
Brienne: You are such an ass.  
Jaime: Is that how you show your gratitude, wench? 

He bit his lip over the last message, which was dangerously close to flirting, but Brienne didn't respond to it directly. He wondered if she was too angry or too embarrassed. 

The next time she texted him, it woke him up at oh-gods-hundred hours. He shouldn't have answered, given that he only had a couple of hours left before he had to get up, but in the confusion of waking, he thought something must be wrong for her to be texting him in the middle of the night. But her message didn't sound urgent.

Brienne: Are you up?  
Jaime: I am now what's wrong?  
Brienne: shit, I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you  
Brienne: Never mind it's not important you can go back to sleep

He should have told her he'd get back to her when it was actually daylight, but he sat up and turned on the light instead.

Jaime: too late & now I'm curious. What's up?  
Brienne: I'm an idiot. You're going to think I'm so stupid  
Jaime: What did you do?  
Jaime: Trust me you can't have done anything stupider than some of Tyrion's stunts  
Jaime: or mine for that matter

There was a pause while the three dots on the screen appeared and disappeared before she finally sent another message. What exactly could the wench have gotten herself into? She didn't seem scared or hurt, at least, just embarrassed. Though it didn't take much to make her blush, he knew. And he really didn't need to be thinking about that while in his bed in the middle of the night. 

Brienne: My friend made me go to her brother's birthday party  
Brienne: I'm hiding on the back porch  
Jaime: thats it?  
Brienne: I told you

Jaime wasn't sure if he was amused or offended.

Jaime: You said you'd done something stupid I figured you'd gotten drunk and hooked up with someone, or gotten a tattoo or flashed someone at least

He bit down on his tongue, hard, at that mental image. He shouldn't be saying things like that to her anyway. 

Brienne: I don't drink and no, not going to happen, ever

Jaime: Sorry wench I'm a bit sleep deprived right now what do you need from me?

Brienne: if I'm texting it looks like I'm talking to someone  
Jaime: you are talking to someone  
Brienne: I was texting my brother but he's home on Tarth and had to go to bed  
Jaime: And you chose me next?  
Brienne: Everyone else I know is here

Well that stung.

Jaime: You must really be desperate huh  
Brienne: I didn't mean it like that  
Jaime: have you considered maybe just enjoying the party  
Brienne: I didn't want to be here Margaery made me come  
Jaime: Tyrell?  
Brienne: yes  
Jaime: youre friends with Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell?  
Brienne: Yes?  
Jaime: the bodyguards make more sense now  
Jaime: couldn't you just hang out with them?  
Jaime: them being your friends?  
Jaime: who wanted you to be at the party with them?

There was another pause, shorter than the previous one. 

Brienne: I'm avoiding someone  
Jaime: Aha, now we're getting to the good stuff!  
Brienne: It's stupid  
Jaime: So, ex-boyfriend? Or girlfriend?  
Brienne: Ha ha. Of course not

How was that an "of course not"?

Jaime: Ok he wanted to be your boyfriend and you just used him for sex?  
Brienne: Where are you getting these ideas, soap operas?  
Jaime: Did I mention what time it is here? Give me something, your highness  
Brienne: Fine. It's Loras. Margaery's brother  
Jaime: Isn't it his birthday?  
Jaime: Youre avoiding the person whose birthday party you're at?  
Brienne: I know 

He pondered that for a moment. 

Jaime: What did he do?  
Brienne: It wasn't a big deal

Tension crept into his muscles. 

Jaime: Brienne.  
Brienne: He's dating Renly

That seemed like a non-sequitur. 

Jaime: Baratheon?  
Brienne: You know him?  
Jaime: His older brother is married to my sister.  
Jaime: Unfortunately

Jaime had had the misfortune of crossing paths with his sister and her husband not long after Renly came out. Robert's reaction had been unpleasant to say the least. 

Brienne: we were at Stormlands together. He was basically my only friend there  
Jaime: what's this got to do with you avoiding his boyfriend?  
Brienne: Renly introduced me to Loras when he was graduating. Loras was drunk and he said some things about me.  
Brienne: it wasn't anything I hadn't heard before, but Renly just laughed it off  
Jaime: so are you avoiding them both then?  
Brienne: I guess so

Jaime still felt like he was missing something.

Jaime: what exactly did he say?  
Brienne: he talked about how I look 

Jaime cringed, flashing back to his own terrible first impression on her. Gods, how many people saw her for the first time and felt it necessary to discuss her appearance? Tyrion got it all the time too, which just made it worse that Jaime had done such a thing. 

Brienne: he said something about how it was good I was gay because I'm too butch to get a straight boyfriend

Ouch. 

Brienne: I'm not gay  
Brienne: I've had the same thought, that it might be easier that way but… 

Jaime firmly squashed the relief he felt. 

Brienne: it made me realize Renly thought I was. And that was why he'd been nice to me.  
Brienne: I thought we were friends but he never really wanted to know me at all

That sounded overly dramatic, at least to him. 

Jaime: did he actually say that?  
Brienne: no  
Jaime: did you ask?  
Brienne: I just left. Renly graduated and I haven't seen him since. 

Even via text, she sounded sad. Jaime rubbed at his eyes. 

Jaime: this is highly hypocritical coming from me but I think you need to talk to Renly at least. Loras is an asshole but youre assuming a lot about Renly's motives  
Brienne: maybe

A couple minutes went by before he got a photo instead of a text. It was Brienne leaning her chin on Sansa's head, attempting to look cheerful while Sansa grinned at the camera. 

Brienne: I'm stealing her away now she's been skulking in the corner for too long!

That clearly wasn't Brienne talking. 

Jaime: Good. Go have fun and don't drink too much.  
Brienne: yes dad :p

He studied the picture for a moment. Brienne looked nice. Someone, probably Sansa, had done her hair and her make up from the looks of the photo. Despite the awful lighting of the phone's flash, her eyes were still as blue as he remembered. 

He put the phone down and silenced it, although he was doubtful he'd get back to sleep now. 

When he finished his shift later that day he had a new text message from Brienne. It was another photo, a selfie of her sitting on a sofa with a dark-haired man Jaime recognized as Renly. He had his arm around Brienne's shoulders and was beaming at the camera. The text from Brienne just said "you were right." 

This was good, Jaime tried to tell himself. Dispensing advice to a younger friend, like a fond older brother, was a more appropriate relationship than what his body was craving. He could get over those feelings, surely, and manage to claim a space in her life as a surrogate brother of sorts. 

That night he dreamt he was at a house party with her. He didn't know the house but it didn't matter. In the dream, he tugged Brienne away from a bunch of people, into the bathroom, and fucked her on the sink until she was crying his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so it wasn't in a bath but the Kingslayer confession still happened. A lot of the key moments in their story will happen in this fic but not always in order or similar locations.


	3. I've Been Wasted in the Arms of Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion graduates. Jaime discovers he's maybe not entirely ready to be having all these feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly short and mostly Jaime tangled in his feelings, but things will begin to pick up after this.

Jaime was disappointed but not surprised to be the only member of Tyrion's family to attend his graduation ceremony once he finally finished his dissertation. Even Aunt Genna hadn't bothered to make the trip to King's Landing. Jaime sat alone in the seats on the floor of the auditorium reserved for ticketed guests. When Tyrion's name was called Jaime jumped up, clapping and cheering as loudly as he could.

It turned out he wasn't entirely alone. There were people up in the bleachers, not many, but some. As Tyrion, his custom-sewn doctoral hood in place, turned to shake hands with the dean a group up in the bleachers began to yell along with Jaime. Tyrion waved as he came off the stage, a bright smile on his face.

Jaime craned his neck to look at the group, fairly sure he spotted a pale blonde head amidst the crowd.

He took Tyrion to the White Stag, the best steakhouse in the city, that night for supper, where Tyrion insisted first the bartender then their waiter address him as "Doctor Lannister" all night. 

The next evening was "the graduation party to end all graduation parties" according to Tyrion. He had rented out an entire nightclub in the warehouse district for the event. There was a guest list, but it seemed likely a number of people who weren't invited were going to make their way in to the party of the year. 

Jaime was surprised to learn that Tyrion had had Bronn hire a number of additional security personnel, both to cover the door and also to keep an eye on things inside. When he asked Tyrion about it, his brother waved a hand. "The public orgy will need to wait until I'm tenured," he said with a smirk, before adding more seriously, "Obviously I want my guests to drink, dine and live well, but what I don't need is photos all over the press of a KLU student doing illegal drugs at a party hosted by the newest faculty member. Or something worse." 

As expected, the crowd grew quickly as the evening progressed, Tyrion in the thick of things at all times. Renly Baratheon was there and he greeted the two of them with his usual good cheer. They made small talk for a bit before Renly headed to the bar and Jaime looked at his brother.

"You didn't invite-?" Jaime hadn't even considered that he might have to see Cersei and he wasn't ready for it, but Tyrion cut him off before he could finish the question.

"Fuck no. This is my party, I want to have fun tonight." 

That was a relief. 

A little while later Tyrion introduced Jaime to Oberyn Martell and his partner, Ellaria Sand. "We've actually met before," Jaime said, "At Elia's graduation party."

Oberyn's eyes lit up. "Of course, I had forgotten. You and Eli were close while you were in school." 

The words were friendly but there was a knife edge in Oberyn's smile that made Jaime nervous. The man was Elia's older brother and if Jaime had an undeserved reputation for violence and excess, Oberyn's was of his own making, even if he appeared to have settled down. 

"She was a good friend to me," Jaime said in reply. "Probably the first real friend I ever had." That was a bit more than polite chitchat and Jaime felt embarrassed but Oberyn looked surprised. Jaime asked after Elia and the rest of the family and the four of them ordered a new round of drinks. Jaime had had one shot at the start of the party at his brother's insistence, and then been nursing a bottle of ale since then, so the new round of shots of something that set his throat on fire made him dizzy.

He blamed that for not realizing Oberyn was hitting on him for the rest of their conversation. It wasn't until Tyrion regretfully said he needed to see to his other guests and Oberyn put his hand on Jaime's arm and reiterated his open invitation to Dorne that it sank in. He stumbled out a thank you and followed his brother, who looked at the stunned expression on Jaime's face and broke down laughing until tears were running down his face. 

That seemed to be enough brotherly bonding for one evening. Jaime left Tyrion to the whirl of greeting people and found a space near the edge of the bar and ordered some water. He watched the ebb and flow of the crowd, which still seemed to be getting larger even though the party had started hours ago. 

He had been looking for Brienne all night out of the corner of his eye, so he had no trouble spotting her when she came into the club. He saw her looking around and thought she caught his gaze. He raised a hand in a half wave and then immediately dropped it, feeling like an idiot. But she started making her way toward the bar.

For weeks he had been trying not to imagine seeing Brienne tonight, what she would be wearing, possibly asking her to dance if he could work up the nerve. She was dressed up more than he had ever seen in person before, and he worried his own button down shirt and slacks were too casual.

He was so focused on Brienne he didn't notice the redhead she was walking behind until Sansa appeared in front of him and threw her arms around his shoulders. "Jaime!"

_I guess we're hugging friends now? Who was the last person I hugged who wasn't family?_ He hugged her back. 

"How are you?" he asked seriously. 

"I'm okay." Ramsay Bolton had gotten a plea agreement, so there would be no trial, but it meant he would not rot in jail for the rest of his miserable life, which was unfortunate. "Trying to focus on graduating next semester." 

Jaime squeezed her shoulder. Sansa stepped back a little and Jaime was face to face with Brienne. She was in a dress, something dark colored that clung to her body in the best places, leaving a good amount of her legs on display. On another woman it might be a normal length but her legs were so fucking long… His throat went dry. 

When Brienne leaned in and hugged him, he closed his eyes for a moment. She had hugged him before, once or twice, but not this close, and not like this. She felt wonderful in his arms, even if his chin was slightly below her shoulder. When she stepped back he glanced down. She was wearing heels. Not tall ones, but with her height, even a small heel meant she was the tallest person in the room. 

She saw where he was looking and blushed. "Margaery's idea," she said to him. 

"Jaime, have you met Margaery Tyrell?" Sansa drew another woman, a petite brunette, from behind Brienne. Jaime shook hands with her. The Tyrell heiress was beautiful, but there was a wicked humor in her eyes that warned him this girl was definitely Olenna's granddaughter. 

"I've heard a lot about you, Captain," she told him with a smirk. Jaime felt his stomach contract. Usually when people had "heard things" about him it had to do with Aerys Targaryen, but Margaery kept speaking. "Sansa said it was you, not Brienne, who beat the living shit out of Bolton."

"I think I'm supposed to say I defended several people from a violent maniac, for legal reasons."

She laughed. "It was about time someone did it. I also heard that despite your fighting prowess, our Brienne has put your ass in the dirt more than once?" 

He looked at Brienne. "Have you been gloating?" Brienne turned red again and glared at Margaery. Jaime put his hand over his heart. "Have some mercy on an old man's ego, wench." 

That startled Margaery. "Wench?" She looked between Brienne and Jaime.

He shrugged. "Swordswench? Her highness doesn't like being called a lady, and she's more comfortable with swords." 

Sansa intervened before Margaery could say anything else. "We should go say hi to Tyrion. We'll be back!" She headed off into the crowd again, pulling Brienne behind her. Jaime noted Goodwin and another bodyguard shifting to follow Brienne, Goodwin nodding quickly at Jaime.

Jaime sipped the rest of his water, trying not to stare at Brienne like a besotted idiot as she greeted Tyrion.

"So," a new voice said from his side. Jaime turned. A man he didn't know was standing there. He came to about Jaime's shoulder, and he was neither good looking nor ugly, but rather somewhere in the middle that would be hard to remember once he was no longer in front of you. "You know the princess of Tarth?"

Jaime nodded but didn't say anything. Whoever this was, if he had overheard the conversation with the girls he knew that was true. Jaime didn't see a camera, but the man could still be a paparazzi or a reporter. 

"Hyle Hunt." He held out a hand. Jaime pointedly didn't respond. "I went to high school with her, back on Tarth. Brienne the Beauty." He chuckled and Jaime's hackles went up. "So you're Jaime Lannister, right?"

"I am. How do you know my brother?"

"Oh I don't," Hunt said blithely. "A buddy of mine is dating this chick who got an invite, so I tagged along. Wanted to see how the other half lives." He ordered a drink from the bar and Jaime debated calling over security, but other than semi-crashing the party, the guy hadn't done anything wrong. He at least came with someone who was invited, allegedly.

"So," Hunt said again. "How do you know Brienne?" 

Jaime supposed he had to give this jackass credit for brazenness. "She's my brother's student." 

"Oh, right, KLU. I went to Riverlands, myself. Business degree."

"I also serve with Brienne's brother," Jaime decided to add. If Hunt wanted a dick measuring contest, Jaime was fine with obliging.

Hunt snorted. "The future king, eh? He's all right. Bit thickheaded, but the whole family is like that. I mean, they're good people," he amended quickly, seeing Jaime's expression. "Better than some of the assholes in Parliament, that's for sure." He turned and surveyed the crowd. "Seemed like you knew the other two as well? I wouldn't mind getting up close and personal with the Tyrell girl." He laughed, looking across the room where Brienne had folded herself down on a low seat to get closer to Tyrion's eye level, Sansa perched next to her. "It's so weird seeing Big Brienne with the two pretty little princesses. But then, all women look the same in the dark, right?" 

Hunt nudged Jaime's arm, like they were sharing a joke. Jaime merely shot the man a disgusted look and decided it would be bad press if the brother of the host hit a guy for being a drunken asshole. He walked away, heading toward his brother. 

He only made it part of the way through the crowd when he saw Brienne stand up to greet a huge, red-haired man with a beard who had approached. The bearded fellow swept her into a crushing hug which made her flush red and she smiled awkwardly at him as he let her go. 

The sight hit Jaime like a sledgehammer. Gods he was stupid. Just because Brienne had never mentioned a boyfriend or any dates she had been on, it didn't mean there weren't other men (and probably women) who would be attracted to her. In addition to her incredible eyes and gorgeous legs and her bravery and kindness, she was a literal princess. All sorts of people were probably drawn to her, like Jaime was, moths to the flame. 

How had he never thought about this? He'd been so obsessed with fighting his own feelings, he had never really stopped to think that Brienne had an entire life of her own outside of her friendship with him, a life that likely included plenty of better options than him. But he only ever spent time with Brienne when it was just the two of them, or a small number of people.

A waiter was circulating with a tray of shots. Jaime grabbed one and threw it back, then moved away from the others, wandering until he found himself near the bottom of the metal staircase. 

"Jaime, there you are." Brienne had followed him. "So how are you?"

"Fine," he said. The drink must have gone to his head, because before he could stop himself he blurted out, "Who was that big bearded guy?"

"Oh, Tormund. He's from the north, way north, even past Winterfell. He's doing a semester here in King's Landing."

"Oh really? Looked like that's not all he's _doing_ here." Fuck. He had meant to say it teasingly, but he sounded angry and petty and not like himself. 

Brienne stared at him for a long moment. "You sound quite jealous," she said, her voice and face showing her confusion.

Jaime looked down at the empty shotglass in his hand, cursing silently to himself. "I do, don't I." 

"You're drunk." She sounded relieved. Brienne had followed where he was looking and jumped to a conclusion based on the glass in his hand. He wasn't, Jaime knew he was barely tipsy, but it was a convenient way out of having to explain why he was snarling like a dog about his _friend_ hugging another man. 

"I might be," he said, trying to avoid outright lying. "I haven't eaten anything in a while."

"Oh, I think there's food set out-"

He needed to get away from Brienne before he said anything else. "Yes, I'm going to go grab something. You should go back to your friends." 

He walked away from her before she could reply, knowing he was being an ass but afraid to stay, afraid of what else might come spilling out of his stupid mouth.

He slunk over into the line for the food, but his eyes went back across the room. Brienne had indeed gone back to her friends. They were chatting with Oberyn and Ellaria, who to Jaime both seemed to be eyeing Brienne appreciatively. The northerner was standing close to Brienne. Jaime watched as he slid an arm around her waist and stretched up to speak in her ear.

His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to knock the other man away. _She's mine,_ he wanted to tell Tormund, tell all of them. Grab Brienne and kiss her and let the entire room know she was taken. 

She wasn't, of course. She wasn't his. And she wasn't a possession for him to own.

On the heels of that thought, a memory rose up. _"You're mine, Jaime. You'll always be mine."_ It had been a promise at first, then a jape and a threat. 

_I'm just like her,_ Jaime thought, his stomach rolling. He glanced around quickly as bile rose in his throat. He was too far from the front door so he bolted for the nearest toilet, just making it into a stall before vomiting up the entire contents of his stomach. 

Eventually he flushed the toilet. He was chilled and shaking and he couldn't quite get himself up off the floor of the stall just yet. 

Someone tapped on the door. "Mr. Lannister?"

Shit. Someone had seen him come in here looking about to puke. _Please let it be staff and not a reporter._ "Yeah?"

"It's Podrick Payne, ser. The princess sent me to check on you?"

Podrick, Goodwin's new apprentice bodyguard. He was young, younger than Brienne, and she had described the lad like a devoted puppy trailing around after Goodwin. 

That meant Brienne had seen him flee to the bathroom. Wonderful. He stifled a hysterical sounding laugh. Even after he'd been a complete ass to her, Brienne still sent someone to look after him. 

When he didn't speak, Podrick asked again, "Are you all right, Mr. Lannister?"

"Jaime," he said. "Please. Mr. Lannister is my father." He braced himself and got to his feet and unlatched the door, reaching deep for the Lannister charm as he turned to Podrick's worried face. "I seem to have aged past the days of drinking on an empty stomach, Podrick." 

Podrick nodded. "Do you need anything?"

"Some water, if you wouldn't mind? I'd like to rinse this taste out of my mouth."

"Of course, ser." The boy hurried out of the bathroom. Jaime washed his hands and then splashed water onto his face. His reflection looked pale and haggard and his hands were still trembling. Fuck. He hadn't had a panic attack this severe in a long time. Maybe it had been the alcohol, at least partly.

Once Podrick had come back with the water, Jaime thanked him and said he was going to head out front and get a cab home. Podrick followed him, which was overprotective, but he didn't feel like having an argument in the middle of the throng.

When they got outside into the chilly air and the noise level dropped, Podrick put out a hand. "I'm to drive you home, ser. Her highness isn't leaving for a while, and she wants to be sure you get home safe." 

Jaime frowned. Podrick pointed to his ear. Right, he and Goodwin probably had radios, though how anyone could hear through the din inside was a mystery. 

"I'm an adult, Podrick, I can get myself home on my own." 

The boy spread his hands. "Ser, I'd like to keep my job, if it's all right with you." 

Jaime gave in and followed as Podrick headed for a nearby garage. Jaime pulled out his phone and texted Tyrion, in case Brienne hadn't already told him, that he wasn't feeling well and had left the party. Then he just stared at the lights of the city while Podrick navigated the SUV to Tyrion's building. 

He pulled up outside the front door and put the car in park. "Ser, I need you to text me once you're inside. If you'll give me your phone?"

Seven hells. "I don't need a babysitter!" 

"I don't think that matters to her highness." Jaime resisted while Podrick stared back. "She'll ask, when I get back. If you know her at all, you know she'll ask." 

And if Podrick reported Jaime hadn't confirmed he was safe inside, she'd call him or text him until he answered. "Fine." He handed over his phone, mumbling under his breath about stubborn women.

Podrick looked faintly amused. "The princess is very protective of her friends, ser. Too many people want to use her position for something, so the people she trusts are very important to her." Now it was the boy's turn to go pale. "Um, please forget I said that, Mr. Lannister." 

"It's all right, Podrick. Nothing I couldn't have figured out for myself. Lannisters aren't royalty any more, but I know what it's like." 

"Of course, ser. And it's just Pod."

He held his hand out, relieved it was no longer shaking. "Jaime. Thanks for the ride."

He made his way inside and texted the number Pod had put in reporting that he was safely behind a locked door. Pod replied with a thumbs up emoji, to Jaime's amusement. 

He shucked off his clothes and took a hot shower, then pulled on a pair of sweatpants and his heaviest sweater. Tyrion kept a supply of ginger tea in the kitchen for hangovers, so Jaime made a cup despite his dislike of tea and sat on the couch with the mug warm in his lap. 

He stared out the window at the city lights for a long while, his thoughts whirling. He knew, logically, that his one past romantic relationship was beyond fucked up, and that having been through an abusive relationship increased the risk of continuing the pattern. He had thought that risk was mostly about becoming the victim again, not turning into the abuser. 

_You're putting a lot of pressure on a single thought_ , he reminded himself. One jealous impulse, when he was slightly drunk, was not in itself a problem. 

But that he had had a panic attack was. That he was scared out of his mind at the possibility of hurting Brienne was. He was only a few years away from turning 40 and he had no idea how to be in a healthy relationship. If she even was interested in him in the first place, and why would she be?

_She deserves better than you._

The thought haunted him until he finally fell asleep.


	4. How'd you hear it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Greyjoy Rebellion officially starts, with consequences for both Brienne and Jaime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning. Mind the tags.

For the next several months, Jaime didn't leave Braavos. Tarly had found a new victim to annoy but Jaime didn't seek out any chances to go to King's Landing anyway. 

The day after the party, when Tyrion finally emerged from his hangover late in the evening, Jaime had told his brother the same partial truth as everyone else. He had too much to drink on an empty stomach and decided to call it a night. Tyrion blamed military life for his brother being such a lightweight, but he didn't ask specifically about Brienne. 

Jaime thanked Brienne for sending Pod to take care of him. Her response felt stilted and he immediately backed off of texting her, worried what impression she'd been left with after his behavior. Other than that, he endured some mocking texts from Sansa about him behaving like a college freshman having his first drink, and tried to focus on work. 

Unfortunately, Galladon was now on the base in Braavos with him and seeing the young man daily didn't help Jaime keep his thoughts away from Brienne.

His initial good impression of Galladon only strengthened as the weeks went by. He was perhaps not the smartest person Jaime had ever met (and it was somewhat unfair to compare normal people to Tyrion) but like his sister he was honorable to fault. He also had the punch of an aurochs. It was easy to see the similarities between the fighting styles of the Tarth siblings, who both relied on size and strength and stamina. Jaime managed to survive a few minutes in hand-to-hand practice against Galladon purely based on speed and experience, but he still ended up on his back with his arm pinned handily. Even Lyanna Mormont could do little but climb Galladon like a tree and cling to his back like a monkey while the lad tried to swipe her off. (Jaime did snap a picture of that to send to Brienne.)

Jaime started seeing the base counselor regularly again, talking about the panic attack and the surge of guilt and shame that had swept over him the night of the party. He had never felt more than a passing interest in a woman romantically, not since Cersei. Jaime had resigned himself, or thought he had, to being single for the rest of his life. He hadn't been expecting Brienne, or the intensity of his reactions to her.

Which didn't change that he still felt she deserved better than an older man with his checkered history and a bad reputation. His therapist reminded him, repeatedly, that the choice was Brienne's. "Deciding what she does and doesn't deserve for her is just as controlling as trying to claim ownership of her like a jealous lover, wouldn't you say?" 

That might be true, but Jaime had no idea how to go about telling Brienne how he felt or if he even should. He didn't know how to do any of this, and in addition to being ashamed of being in his mid-30s with no dating experience, his history with his twin was a weight around his neck. He did try to message Brienne more. There was no reason to sabotage their friendship because he was having difficulty getting a handle on his feelings.

He was busy with training anyway. Arthur Dayne, not being a fool, assigned Galladon to his own command and they all shipped out to Lannisport, leaving Jaime's unit to follow in a few weeks. Jaime was tasked with breaking in the new soldiers who'd been sent to replace them, most of whom hadn't been out of Westeros before. 

Every Commonwealth base was on a higher alert than normal after some insurgent activity in the Iron Islands. The current Greyjoy king had made no secret of his dislike for the Commonwealth when he was prince, but since being crowned king he had been less vocal on the subject. As autumn began to set in in earnest, there were some attacks on Commonwealth offices in the Iron Islands. Jaime was more worried about it than he had admitted to Galladon.

Once things were wrapping up in Braavos, Jaime stopped in King's Landing on his way to Lannisport for a few days of meetings. His therapist urged him to make plans with Brienne while he was in the city, if only to maintain their friendship. The semester was over now, so there were no fencing practices, taking away his usual excuse. Jaime was working up the nerve to suggest Brienne meet him for coffee as he arrived at the White Tower for his first meeting. He couldn't quite figure out how to phrase the text message to make it not sound like a date, because it absolutely was not a date, just two friends meeting to catch up after not seeing each other for a while. 

That at least one of the two people involved was still having sexual dreams on a fairly regular basis about the other one was irrelevant, because that information was not going to be shared beyond Jaime and his therapist. Except Tyrion had pointedly asked him the night before if he was going to see Brienne while he was in town. Jaime had tried hard to sound as casual about it as he could. 

When his meeting broke for lunch, he still hadn't sent the text and there was a tension in the air through the White Tower that made his neck prickle. Something was wrong. Aides were hurrying back and forth with their faces grim. The afternoon meeting was canceled without explanation. Jaime joined the rest of his colleagues milling around in the break rooms, staring at the televisions as the first reports appeared of an attack of some sort, on the base in Lannisport. 

He was there when the first rumors about casualties began to circulate. The news kept reporting more and more ships destroyed, the fires and damage to the base kept becoming more extensive. Greyjoy forces had achieved complete surprise on the Commonwealth base, attacking and retreating swiftly in the early morning. There seemed to have been no damage to the Greyjoy attackers. The Commonwealth air defenses never made it off the ground for some reason no one could explain. 

Jaime went to the main situation room. He was there when the confirmation of fatalities came in. Then they learned the names.

His only thought was that he had to get to Brienne. She couldn't hear about this from a stranger. 

He didn't remember the drive to the campus once he arrived. Every step felt like a huge effort but he kept moving, walking to the humanities building and wishing the elevator would get stuck to spare him from having to do this, but the bell dinged and he stepped out into the basement level.

He got no more time to prepare himself. Tyrion was in his office and Brienne was sitting at one of the outer desks typing furiously on a laptop. 

Goodwin and Bronn noticed him first, then Podrick. Goodwin took a single look at his face and somehow, Jaime knew that he knew. 

"Brienne."

She looked up. "Oh, Jaime. Hi. Tyrion's in his office."

He clenched his fingers into a fist, hating that she looked so calm and that he was going to destroy her. "I need to speak with you. Uh, in private." 

Brienne frowned but got up when Jaime gestured to Tyrion's office. His brother must have figured out what was happening because he leaned back away from his desk, his eyes sorrowful Jaime followed Brienne into the tiny office. 

Brienne had realized something was wrong. Jaime pushed her gently into the chair and after a moment he crouched down in front of her. She started to shake her head, and Jaime had to swallow before he could speak. "Brienne…"

"No," she whispered. She already knew. But he still had to tell her.

"There was an insurgent attack on the base early this morning. The barracks were hit. I'm sorry."

Brienne collapsed inward, shrinking in on herself and covering her face with both hands. She didn't make a sound, other than the shaky breaths in between her silent sobs. 

"Brienne?" Sansa was in the doorway. She looked from Brienne's tear-stained face to Jaime's uniform and back and her face crumpled. "Oh, Brienne. No. Not Gal!" Sansa stumbled forward and hugged her while Jaime moved out of the way. "Oh Brie, I'm so sorry." 

Tyrion hastily gathered his things and he and Jaime retreated to the outer office, leaving the two women alone for the moment. Goodwin went out in the hall, talking to Pod. Jaime sank onto the shitty couch and sighed. 

Tyrion hesitated next to him. "Thank you, Jaime, for coming in person to tell her."

He nodded. "It was the least I could do."

His brother shifted restlessly. "I have to get to class. You'll stay with her?"

"Whatever she needs." 

Tyrion departed and Jaime sat there, listening to the sobbing and soft words coming from the office. He remembered belatedly that Sansa had developed a bit of a crush on Galladon after he visited Brienne in King's Landing. It wasn't surprising. Sansa had a romantic streak a mile long, even after Bolton, and Galladon was tall and strong and a soldier. Jaime had teased the lad about it, amused when Gal scoffed, "She's my little sister's friend!" But he had blushed as he said it.

Cersei had called Jaime a sentimental fool more than once, so probably he was imagining things and nothing would have come of it. Sansa would have gotten over her crush, Galladon would have met someone else. Or maybe not. Maybe being in each other's orbit over the years would have brought them together. Maybe they would have fallen in love and gotten married. He could picture Sansa as an Army wife, her devotion to duty and honor keeping her spirits up as her husband was deployed all over the place. Maybe they would've had a family and eventually gone back to Tarth when it was time. 

Maybe. Maybe not. But none of it could happen now, because the brave, bright young man was dead, and all those possibilities had gone with him. 

Jaime covered his eyes with his hands, swiping the tears that had formed away. He couldn't fall apart right now. 

Goodwin came back, his own eyes red. He looked older than Jaime had ever seen him. "Does his father know yet?"

"Unless the Army has called him to notify him, I don't think so."

"I should call him," Brienne said from the doorway. She sounded numb.

Goodwin suggested they go back to the apartment first. Jaime followed silently and sat on the couch next to Brienne as she dialed the phone, Sansa holding her hand on her other side. He heard Selwyn's voice grow more worried when Brienne froze, unable to get the words out. 

Gently, Jaime took the phone receiver from her hand and told her father the news himself. 

*~*~*~*~*

Two days later he was in his dress uniform, walking steadily behind the flag-draped casket as it was lowered onto the tarmac in the small airfield on Tarth. 

Brienne and her father were waiting, side by side. Selwyn Tarth was as tall as his son had been, though his light hair was now silver, and he looked thinner than either of his children. Lines of grief were etched deep into his face in the dim sunlight of autumn.

A row of red hair stood beside them. Sansa, her sister, and her parents were waiting with the Tarths, and Jaime noted Margaery Tyrell and Renly Baratheon nearby. The prime minister couldn't make it, of course, with the shit storm going on in King's Landing over the attack and the utter failure of the Commonwealth defenses, but at least one of the Baratheons had bothered to pay their respects. 

Beyond the formal receiving line a large crowd watched silently. Many of them were weeping as the formalities were observed. Galladon Tarth had been the heir to the throne, and it looked like half the island had come to receive him home. 

Jaime spent the next few days trading shifts standing vigil in the sept. Brienne had her hands full trying to keep her father from staying there the entire seven days and nights, so their friends had organized a rotation to ensure someone who knew the family was present at all times. The stream of visitors in the sept kept up for days. People came from every corner of Tarth to pay their respects.

Cat Stark was involved in a battle of wills over the planning for the wake with the Tarth's Septa, Roelle, who had been Brienne's childhood nanny. Jaime had teased her when he learned about it. Having a personal septa was such a princess-like thing for Brienne of all people; only the oldest families still kept up the practice. Even his sister hadn't had one. 

The Tarths were busy, so Jaime was left to his own devices a lot. He wandered around Evenfall Hall during the days, making note of some places Tyrion would probably like to see when he arrived. The oldest parts of the hall, carved from the stone of the cliffs, dated back to the Heroic Era. The upper parts were built from the marble of the mountains, which held the warmth of the sun in the evenings. It was smaller than Casterly Rock, the enormous old castle belonging to the Lannisters, and not nearly as ornate as Highgarden, the Tyrell family seat, but Jaime liked Evenfall better. It felt sturdy, enduring, as though no matter how hard the storms coming off the waters tried to wipe it away, it would stand.

He had an unlikely companion in his explorations in Arya Stark. Jaime knew that the Starks were distantly related to Brienne. Given how far back her lineage went he would not have been surprised to find connections with any number of old Westeros houses, probably including his. But more than that, Ned had turned to Selwyn, an old friend, for guidance when his father and brother had died years earlier, leaving Ned unexpectedly in charge of Winterfell. That was how Sansa and Brienne had ended up roommates when Sansa moved to King's Landing. 

Arya, the little she-wolf, had met Brienne through her sister. Arya was already winning medals in the junior fencing league and had taken to Brienne like a duck to water, apparently. 

Jaime made a solemn vow never to spar with Arya Stark. Brienne kicking his ass on a regular basis he could live with. She was as big as him and he was out of practice. Having the tiny slip of a girl best him would be too great a blow to his ego. 

When the seven days of the vigil ended, the wake was held in Evenfall Hall following the funeral. Brienne stood next to her father for over two hours, receiving each person who came in. Jaime lurked around the edges of the main hall, his anxiety spiking as he looked at Brienne. She was pale, her face set in a blankness that was concerning. It was incongruous. He thought of Brienne as being so strong. Seeing her like this and not being able to even talk to her was making him crazy.

He stumbled across Ned, who was hiding in a corner by himself. Jaime had gotten new orders earlier that day. He had to be on a flight the following morning to the Lannisport base. The Prime Minister wanted to make a "show of strength" against the Greyjoy insurgents, whatever the fuck that meant.

Unlike Brienne, Ned was a target Jaime could reach. "So, you headed back to King's Landing tomorrow? Need to go be the loyal lapdog to your best friend as he fucks this up even more?"

Ned looked bleak. Clearly he knew Robert Baratheon's plans. "I didn't support it. I would've said so if I'd been there, but Robert put the idea out while I was away on purpose." 

"I suppose you'll make some grave faces for the cameras and then spout the usual bullshit about how we all have to hang together in a crisis?" 

"I'm resigning." The simple sentence took all the wind out of Jaime's sails. Ned had been Robert's deputy in Parliament for over a decade, his most loyal supporter. As much as Jaime hated politics, he still knew what it would mean for Ned Stark to publicly quit his seat over this. The government could fall, especially if any of Robert's other allies did the same thing. 

"Robert's been fucking up for too long," Ned continued. "He's drunk half the time, or off with his mistresses," he glanced at Jaime but Jaime had been aware that his goodbrother was cheating on Cersei for years. There was plenty of adultery in that marriage to go around. "I've been sick of it for a while. The rest of the cabinet are too power hungry to do anything. But winter is coming." He said it like an incantation, a foreboding one. "Even the Citadel thinks it's going to be a bad season. We should have been focused on preparing for it, not letting the Greyjoy cult run amuck and now trying to cover it up by blasting innocent people to the seven hells." 

"Oh," Jaime said inadequately. 

Ned gave him a grim smile. "I'd appreciate it if you kept that under your hat, Lannister. I'll be making a public announcement soon enough." Jaime nodded and watched as Stark moved off to find his wife in the crowd. 

Restless and even more unsettled now, Jaime passed by one of the high tables that had been placed around the sides of the hall and overheard Margaery calling someone a bitch. He stopped and backpedaled a step, aiming a look at her and Sansa, who appeared to be gossiping.

Sansa caught his glare and rolled her eyes. "Not Brienne. Roelle."

"That nasty old hag," Margaery hissed. The elderly septa had been standing next to Brienne the entire evening. "She's been nagging Brienne constantly about her clothes or her posture or what she's eating all fucking week."

Jaime nodded. "I tried to get Brienne to take a walk with me the other night. I thought she needed to get out of the house for a bit. Roelle screeched at me that an unmarried lady couldn't go off alone with a man." Brienne had shrunk at the scolding, looking for all the world like a child. Jaime had been seething ever since. No one should talk to Brienne that way. 

The two girls snorted. "It looks like the receiving line is finally done, maybe we can get Brie out of here soon," Margaery observed, looking around the room. "Oh great, it's Horrible Hyle."

Jaime followed her gaze and recognized the bland looking jackass from Tyrion's party. "I usually call him Hunt the Cunt," he said to Margaery. "Yours is more polite." 

Sansa was staring, though, at a red-haired man talking to Hunt. "Oh hells. I think that's Connington."

"WHAT?" Margaery whisper-screamed.

"Who?" Jaime asked. As he said it, the man in question started walking toward Brienne and her father.

"He wouldn't," Sansa was shaking her head, but she looked furious. 

So did Margaery. "He absolutely would. Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah." 

Jaime put a hand on the table between them. "What are you two on about?"

"That's Ron fucking Connington," Margaery said, dripping with contempt. Off Jaime's confused look, she started to explain. "He went to high school with Brienne and-"

"Margaery," Sansa interrupted with a meaningful look.

The other girl paused and then clearly edited whatever she had been about to say. "All I can tell you is he organized a bet with some other boys. About Brienne."

Jaime considered what types of things high school boys might have been betting on about a girl and grew progressively nauseated as he kept thinking of worse possibilities. "And he showed up to her brother's fucking wake?"

"His father's in Tarth's parliament. We can't let him get in front of Brienne," Sansa said, looking around and waving at someone urgently. 

"Right, I'll intercept him and stall. Army, you're with me." Margaery took Jaime's elbow and lead him through the crowds toward the red-headed man. Jaime had no idea what they were planning, but he was in agreement not to let this asshole anywhere near Brienne right now.

Connington was already going to seed even though he was Brienne's age. There was a definite paunch developing around his midsection, his hair showed signs of thinning and he had a scraggy looking beard on his face. When Margaery put herself into his path, though, he openly leered, staring down at her breasts and smirking. 

Jaime's hand closed into a fist. 

"Well, hello there, sweetie. Don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss…?"

Margaery, with the acting skills the Tyrells were famous for, smiled at him, though it looked like poisoned glass. Jaime noticed Arya pass by behind Connington. "Margaery Tyrell. This is Captain Jaime Lannister. We're friends of Princess Brienne's."

"Oh so you two know Brienne the Beauty, eh?" Jaime bristled, remembering Hyle Hunt calling Brienne the same thing. "Wish I could say she looked prettier when she was younger, back when I knew her, but no such luck." 

The one and only thing saving Connington from Jaime instantly punching him in the face was that Jaime was in his uniform, and he could end up court martialed if he got into a fight. He moved closer anyway, menace pouring from him and Connington took a step back.

Margaery was just as close as Jaime to fisticuffs judging by the way her hands were forming claws, but before either of them could move, Sansa called from a few feet away. "Oh hey, Ron? Is this your wallet?"

Connington grabbed for his pockets in alarm and cursed, starting toward Sansa and the wallet Arya had no doubt pickpocketed off him. 

Jaime wasn't about to miss his shot. He stuck a foot out and watched Connington fall flat onto his face, smacking the stone floor hard. There was a general shout and some laughs, and then suddenly Arya was standing there holding, of all things, a tray of empty glasses. She said "Oops" a second before she dropped the tray straight on Connington's head.

More chaos erupted. Roelle was storming over to investigate, so Margaery pushed Jaime's shoulder. "Go get Brienne out of here."

He nodded and hurried off. Brienne and her father were standing there with Ned and Cat. "Some guy fell over his feet," he explained, using his bored Lannister voice to conceal his anxiety. "A girl was carrying some empty glasses back and dropped the tray when he tripped her." 

Ned and Cat were urging Selwyn to retire now that the formal duties were over, so Jaime took charge of Brienne with Cat's silent blessing. "Let's go for a walk."

Brienne let him take her hand and she followed silently as he lead her away from the hall and into the open air. 

Her hand was almost the same size as his, he noted in some corner of his mind. His hands were calloused from handling weapons and training, and he could feel some similar patches of harder skin on her fingers and her palm. But her skin was freezing cold, and Jaime tightened his grip, trying to transfer some warmth through his grasp. 

It disturbed him that she didn't resist at first as he pulled her out of the hall, but when she noticed they were heading to the shore, she tugged on his arm and changed course. They walked past the stables and came into a large, aging barn that was empty. 

Jaime glanced around and noticed fencing equipment, including wooden practice swords, still hanging on the walls. "Was this where you learned to fight?"

She didn't answer him. She was right there and a million miles away and Jaime needed to do something to bring her back to him. 

He discarded his jacket and took two of the old fashioned practice swords down and brushed off the dust. "Brienne?" 

She took the sword, staring at it and at him for a minute before she automatically raised it. 

He struck first, lightly tapping at her blade. The swords were small, much shorter than a fencing rapier, but he wasn't really expecting a formal duel. Brienne defended herself out of reflex more than anything. As the dance went on, though, light came back to her eyes. She started attacking instead of only reacting. Her skin flushed and they were both sweating as she began to strike at Jaime, again and again, her blows becoming harder. She was hampered by the long, ugly black dress she was wearing but as her grief took over she tore a seam in the skirt and didn't even notice.

Jaime switched from merely defending to protecting himself from getting hurt. Brienne had the silly wooden sword in both hands and she was swinging it with her full strength. He could hear the sobs in her breathing and tears were running down her face. Her cries grew louder until with an angry shout she knocked the sword from his hand with enough force to make his entire arm throb. He let out a wounded noise he couldn't keep back.

Brienne dropped the sword instantly. She looked upset at herself for hurting him but when she opened her mouth no sound came out. 

Then she fell forward, almost in slow motion, and Jaime went to his knees just in time to catch her. Brienne slumped against his chest, crying so hard she was shaking. 

Jaime wrapped his arms around her, one of his hands stroking her hair and just letting her cry until her sobs quieted. She tried to pull away but he refused to let her go and her head landed on his shoulder. 

"I'm-"

"Don't you dare apologize right now." 

She took a shaky breath. "I don't think- I can't do this, Jaime. I was never supposed to be the heir. It wasn't supposed to be me." 

"You can do anything, Brienne. You're not alone." He wanted to say _I'm here. I will always be here for you_ but he was getting on a plane in a matter of hours, going into what was now a combat zone, and he had no idea when he would see her again. He was her friend, and her brother's comrade in arms. He had no right to make that kind of promise to her.

But gods, he wanted to. For the first time in his life, there was something Jaime wanted more than to be a soldier.

She nestled closer and he pushed away the awareness of how she fit just right against him. Her hand flattened against his chest, above his heart. "I just…" she sighed, "Gods, Jaime, _I want him back_." 

He tightened his arms. "I know. I do too."


	5. Dancing in this fire for way too long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war against the Iron Islands ends, and Tyrion drops some truths on Jaime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, this story is pretty anti-Cersei.

The campaign against the Greyjoy rebels was brutal. Whatever small measure of vengeance Jaime's unit got for the deaths in the raid was unsatisfying in comparison to the misery they saw. Greyjoy had starved his islands of resources to prepare for a war he couldn't hope to win. Ned Stark's warning rang in Jaime's mind. How were the people in the Iron Islands supposed to survive the winter now? Baratheon's government wasn't going to be inclined to send humanitarian aid to a group of people who rebelled against it, even if it was the actions of a small minority. 

Jaime had seen combat off and on for nearly fifteen years. He'd long ago lost any naivety he carried about glory and honor in war. It was ugly and cruel and unfair and the thing that drove a soldier wasn't any abstract virtue. It was loyalty to the person standing beside you, because your comrades in arms were depending on you to handle your shit so they could handle theirs and maybe you both might just dodge the Stranger and get to go home. 

But he'd never felt so fucking tired during a campaign before. He thought he understood now the look he saw sometimes on Dayne's face, and some of the other senior field commanders. He was getting too old for this shit.

They finally got the last of Greyjoy's forces trapped in a small military base. Jaime made a nearly-suicidal run at a guard outpost, taking out a sentry which allowed the rest of the squad to breach the outer wall. General Tully, the legendary "Blackfish," called him a madman for taking the risk but a few days later, Jaime received a letter saying he was receiving a commendation for bravery, and that the Colonel Dayne was recommending Jaime (finally) be promoted to Major. 

Jaime was grateful, and relieved, but the bitter weariness crept in a little deeper as he looked at his new insignia. 

Still, Brienne was the second person he called with the news after Tyrion. He hadn't talked to her much in the last few months, sticking to text messages. He didn't think she was the type of person who would want to know the details of the violence being enacted against the Greyjoys, even if it was on some level in revenge for her brother. And in the middle of a campaign like this, Jaime had nothing else to really talk about. 

He missed her. He didn't really grasp how alone he had felt not talking to her until he called with his news and they were on the phone for nearly an hour. 

His libido, which had gone more or less dormant again when he was facing regular combat operations, came roaring back that night with a vengeance, just from the sound of her voice. 

Dayne and his commanders were summoned back to the capital once the rebellion was officially over, for debriefing. It had been more than half a year since Jaime had been able to see his brother, and he was happy to crash in Tyrion's small guest room and spend an evening drinking and talking until they both fell asleep. 

Unfortunately, being in King's Landing meant seeing his father, who insisted on a family dinner at his huge, ugly mansion to acknowledge Jaime's promotion. Tyrion promised they'd do something else to celebrate, assuming they both survived the dinner party. 

It was a larger event than Jaime had expected, but that meant his Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna were both there with their respective families. Tywin had also invited a number of "business associates" who he insisted on introducing to Jaime, with frequent asides about how Jaime should become familiar with these people to prepare himself for taking over as his father's heir someday. 

Jaime bit down on his tongue and said nothing. He shook hands and suffered through small talk until he managed to find an escape route by going to the bar.

Not that that proved a refuge. Robert Baratheon was grotesquely blunt about how much the body count in the fighting had saved his position as Prime Minister. Jaime walked away from the man in disgust rather than punch him in front of everyone.

He was trying to hide behind a pillar in the formal parlor when Cersei appeared in front of him. She was beautiful, as always, carefully dressed, with her hair curling over her shoulders. The wife of the prime minister always had to look her best. 

"You look awful, brother," she said by way of greeting him. She gestured with the half-empty wine glass at his chin. "Doesn't the Army have rules about having that mess covering your face?"

Jaime stroked his beard absently. He'd been too busy during the fighting to bother with shaving regularly. By the time things had settled down and he'd gone to a barber, he looked like he'd been living with the Wildlings for months. Some impulse kept him from removing the beard entirely, though, so now it was neatly trimmed, matching his hair.

He suspected the real reason Cersei hated it on sight was that there were some streaks of gray under his chin. His own hair was still mostly dark blonde but his age – their age – was more visible on his face. Cersei hated reminders of how old they both were, and he knew that she spent hours in gyms and spas and with cosmetic surgeons protecting her looks from fading. 

"You don't like it? I have it on good authority it makes me even more handsome and distinguished."

That was stretching the truth, not that he cared about lying to Cersei. He had visited Casterly Rock before leaving Lannisport and taken a selfie with the suit of armor that still stood outside his childhood bedroom. He texted the picture to Brienne, who had replied with a long commentary about the age of the armor and the detailing before adding, "I'm a literal princess who was raised in a castle and even we didn't have suits of authentic armor standing around the family parts of the house!" 

She hadn't said anything to him about the beard, but Sansa had seen the picture and texted him, "B and I both like the beard. You look like someone's hot dad. ;p" That had been enough to make him determined to keep the beard, at least until he saw Brienne in person again. 

(That Jaime had ended up texting buddies with not one but two of the Stark pups was something he never could have predicted. That it was the two girls defied logic. But he had given Sansa his number after the mess with Bolton, and they had exchanged serious and not so serious messages intermittently. While Jaime was away in Lannisport during the fighting, Sansa had started texting him updates on Brienne. He was afraid to bring it up and learn that Sansa had noticed his inappropriate feelings for her best friend, but he was grateful to know Brienne's friends were keeping an eye on her. 

Then Jaime had seen on the news that Arya had won a silver at the Commonwealth Junior Fencing Championships. He told Sansa to send his congratulations to the little she-wolf. Instead a few minutes later he got a text from an unknown number. "I know you meant she-wolf like an insult but I think its badass so thanks old man." But she also sent him pictures from the competition and practices as time went on. He got the sense nobody else in the Stark clan was all that enthusiastic about her determination to compete at the Games as a champion fencer, so that at least explained why she was texting a man almost old enough to be her father who wasn't related to her at all. Or so Jaime told himself.)

Cersei's eyes narrowed like a laser, as they always did whenever Jaime insinuated he might be fucking someone that she didn't know about. "Really. I assumed you were still living like a septon."

"Have you been spying on your own brother, Cersei? Hired an old school Master of Whispers to keep tabs on me? Father won't appreciate you stealing his act."

She rolled her eyes. "Please. I thought maybe some terrorist had cut your cock off entirely. You clearly aren't using it much."

Jaime laughed at that. If only she knew. Up until he'd gone to Lannisport he'd been masturbating more than he had since high school, all because of a certain blonde princess. That was not information he had any intention of sharing, but in a verbal duel with his twin, admitting that he was still celibate was also not an option. Jaime reached for the smarmy Lannister charm and leaned against the pillar. "I'm touched by your concern, but I assure you, I'm quite intact and all parties have been thoroughly satisfied."

She stepped closer. "Is it a man? That's what all the tabloids have been speculating, since nobody ever sees you with women. You always were damned needy, maybe it's for the best that you're getting fucked instead of doing the fucking now." 

She meant it to insult his manhood, but Jaime just smirked. "Your lack of erotic imagination is quite a disappointment." 

Cersei looked intrigued, as though she really believed he had some male lover stashed away somewhere. 

He leaned in, amused that she seemed to think he would tell her anything. "I learned discretion from you, remember." Cersei had always been frantic about the possibility of someone discovering them together. Jaime remembered a string of clandestine meetings, remembered being shoved back into his clothes and out doors, always hiding, always the dirty secret. They were lessons, but not the ones Cersei had thought they were. 

She twitched back a bit and took his measure. Then she switched tactics. She reached for him, like she was going to tenderly cup his cheek, but changed course to put a sisterly hand on his shoulder. "Well, I suppose if you were going to stick around, I might be able to get used to it." 

"You haven't gotten used to the facial hair on your devoted husband after all this time?" 

She gave a theatrical shudder. "That's precisely why I don't like it. I prefer you shaved, like you were before." Her eyes weren't filled with innocent sibling love. "I have missed you, Jaime."

Her voice was low and supposed to sound throaty and full of desire. It was supposed to make him burn with lust and drop everything for the possibility that he might get to fuck her quickly, probably in a closet somewhere. Jaime watched her, feeling detached and almost tired. How long was she going to play these same games?

Outwardly, he only raised an eyebrow. "Have you now."

"You don't know how much," she whispered, an artificial quaver in her voice. "Robert has never been faithful to me, you know that. I have to put up with him pawing at me and snuffling like a sow all over me and then watching him go chase some whore five minutes later. I only married him because I thought we'd be together, like we planned."

"Like you planned," he corrected. 

"You wanted it too," she countered, daring him to deny it. He couldn't. Once upon a time, Cersei had been what she told him he wanted. "Nobody else has ever come close. Nobody feels the way you do inside of me." 

"Not even the Kettlebacks?" he asked, nodding at the two men standing off to the side of the room. He'd seen pictures of her in a tabloid a few months ago and noticed the two hulking brothers who were now part of her security detail. "Which one are you fucking, or is it both? Can you even tell them apart?"

Venom flashed in her eyes before she recovered. "What did you expect me to do, pine away and die without you? This is your stupid fault. If you hadn't been so obsessed with running around playing at being a soldier, I wouldn't have had to resort to such measures." 

_Look at what you made me do,_ Jaime thought, remembering a multitude of articles he'd read years ago as he tried to make sense of his relationship with his twin. But the comment about pretending to be a soldier pissed him off, especially coming on the heels of Robert's gloating about all the Greyjoy blood that had just been spilled. 

"I don’t play at anything, sister. I am a soldier, a decorated veteran in fact. I've been all over the world in the last decade. I even had the chance to sample some of the delights of Lys when I was stationed there." That wasn't technically a lie. Jaime had spent an uncomfortable night in a brothel, courtesy of his comrades who had paid for it, insisting he needed to get laid badly. He leaned even closer to Cersei, eager to draw some blood. "I don't know why you think your cunt is such magical experience. You couldn't make a living in the worst brothel in Lys with your skills, even back when you were in your prime."

A tremor of rage went through Cersei. Her hand moved but he grasped her wrist tightly before she could raise her arm and slap him, which she was obviously intending to do. It was, after all, exactly what she'd done the last time they had seen each other, the night before he'd met Brienne. 

He gave Cersei his best Lannister smile while he held her arm still. "Careful, sweet sister. Wouldn't want the tabloids to get wind of you hitting your twin in front of the elite of King's Landing society and sniffing around for a story, would we." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, as if offering a token of brotherly affection to his sibling, ensuring his beard scratched her skin, before moving toward the bar.

He ordered a bottled ale and sank onto a barstool. He hadn't thought about that night in Lys for a while. It was not long before he was promoted to Captain and his friends had decided that he needed to let loose after the two tours he had put in in Mereen. They had purchased the services of a prostitute at one of the most reputable houses in the city. The courtesan was expensive and probably quite skilled at her trade. She did her best to put him at ease, but that was a hopeless cause. He had no small talk to make with her, watching her take off some of her clothes did nothing for him, and sitting there watching porn videos was too ridiculous to contemplate. He was unable to tell her what he liked or wanted other than not kissing him. He didn't think he could stand a complete stranger putting her tongue in his mouth. 

It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize she was starting to panic about his lack of reaction. An unsatisfied customer was probably a huge danger for her. 

Eventually he had closed his eyes and she worked her hand over him, which was enough to get him hard. He tried to relax. At least for once someone else was doing all the work. But the orgasm was empty, nothing more than a release of some physical tension. She cleaned him up but he stopped her before she could pull his pants back on, because it made him feel like a child. He reassured her nobody would hear anything from him about what had gone on in that room, left her a tip, and fled back to the barracks. He had never done anything like that again.

He downed half the ale in one go. As usual after a confrontation with Cersei, he wanted to take a scalding hot shower and strip off about ten layers of skin. Part of him was annoyed with himself. He shouldn't fight back when Cersei goaded him, not after all this time, but his Lannister tongue got the better of him. As one of his earlier therapists had told him more than once, "Family can push your buttons so well because they installed them." 

He hated the man he was around his family. Well, his father and his sister, at least.

Before he could really think about it, he pulled his phone out and texted Brienne.

Jaime: Save me, wench. I'm surrounded by Lannisters!

She responded a minute later.

Brienne: I hate to have to tell you this, but you're a Lannister.  
Jaime: I know. That's why I know how awful they are.  
Brienne: Isn't your brother there?  
Jaime: He's the exception.  
Jaime: And he's debating the history of constitutional law with my relatives. Uncle Kevan may kill himself just to escape.  
Brienne: Mean.  
Jaime: Oh come on. You of all people know how Tyrion gets.  
Brienne: …I can't deny that.

Jaime finished the bottle and asked for another, trying to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going.

Jaime: Keep texting me so I look busy.  
Brienne: You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.

He grinned. This was a snarky, sarcastic side of Brienne she kept fairly well hidden. He loved it, though. 

Jaime: May I remind you that you woke me in the middle of the night for this same reason?  
Brienne: OK that's fair.  
Jaime: Do something to cheer me up.  
Brienne: if the words "send nudes" appear on this screen I'm blocking your number and telling Arya

He frowned, staring down at the phone. 

Jaime: WTF. Do you seriously think I would say that?

There was a pause and he could almost hear her tired sigh. 

Brienne: No  
Jaime: Liar.  
Brienne: I'm not  
Brienne: I've had some bad experiences with texting before  
Jaime: I'm sorry.  
Jaime: Both for you and on behalf of my entire sex.  
Brienne: it's fine nbd  
Brienne: So other than that, what can I do to cheer you up?

He had the distinct impression it was a big deal but he elected not to push it. 

Jaime: I was going to ask you to have lunch with me while I'm in town but now my feelings are hurt.  
Brienne: Gods you are annoying  
Brienne: Unfortunately I'm at home right now. I'll be back in KL in a couple of weeks. 

It was the break in between semesters, so that made sense. Her father and Tyrion had urged her to return to King's Landing after Galladon died, to complete her coursework for her doctorate. Jaime knew she had been trying to cram as many classes as she could so she could finish the degree and return home full time. Tyrion had admitted he was worried that Brienne would end up never finishing her dissertation if she went back to Tarth, but she felt that her father needed her. 

His mood sunk even further. He was headed back to Braavos in a few days with no idea when he would be back in King's Landing. 

He didn't even bother trying to pretend not to be disappointed. 

Jaime: Damn. Raincheck?  
Brienne: Absolutely. 

A scraping sound behind him made him drop the phone. Tyrion was dragging a chair over next to the barstool next to Jaime. He knew his brother well enough not to offer to help, so he merely kept an eye out as Tyrion climbed onto the chair and then from the chair up onto the barstool. 

Twyin was glaring from the other side of the room at the ruckus but he didn't approach.

Tyrion ordered two shots from the bartender and placed one in front of Jaime. He didn't want the drink but his brother would make himself a pain in the ass until Jaime drank it and he was too tired for that right now.

Tyrion raised his glass. "So tonight's torment is nearly at an end. Tomorrow, we feast on the finest steak and ale in King's Landing." 

Jaime clinked his glass against Tyrion's and downed the shot. 

"So, are you seeing Brienne while you're here?"

"No," Jaime answered, spinning his phone absently. "She's back on Tarth right now. Which you knew." Of course Tyrion knew that already.

"That explains the devastated look you had on your face a minute ago. Well you know what they say about the path of love." 

Jaime froze. 

Tyrion continued, ignorant of or ignoring how Jaime's heart had just stopped. "Do be careful about this, Jaime. You don't want Cersei to get wind of how close you are to Brienne. She'll make the girl's life a living hell. And that's nothing on what father will do if he learns you are in love with a literal princess. He'll manage to get the two of you married before you can blink." 

"I'm not…" he tried to say, but his throat constricted. "Brienne and I… it's not like-"

"Oh please. Give me some credit, will you? If it was just lust, you've had ample opportunity to scratch that itch. And it's not just brotherly concern for your fallen comrade's sister. You saw her every chance you got for months before the Greyjoy rebellion started in earnest. I've literally never heard you speak about a woman the way you do about her, not in the entire course of our lives."

"Do I? Talk about her like…?"

Tyrion glared. "You made me listen to blow by blow recaps of every fight you two had with those silly swords."

"That hardly proves-"

"And the look on your face while you did it was the expression of a man who was already picking out names for his future children." 

He stared down at the bottle in front of him. "You never said." 

"I know." Tyrion's voice turned gentle in a way Jaime had rarely heard. "Normally I wouldn't miss an opportunity to mock you about showing interest in a woman at long last, but it seemed more likely that I would scare you off pursuing her if I said anything. You certainly disappeared after my graduation feast quickly, and Brienne stopped mentioning you after it. I assumed you two had finally consummated your flirtation and it had gone poorly. Then you were off at war, which seemed like a bad time to bring up a failed hookup."

"We didn't," Jaime said immediately.

"I realize that now."

"I wouldn't. Tyrion, I don't… I can't do… casual. You know that." 

Tyrion ordered another drink. "I thought so, but you've been away so long, how was I to know for sure what your romantic habits were for all this time?" Jaime flinched at the bitterness in Tyrion’s voice. "But that also proves my point. The war is over, and eventually she's going to leave to move back to Tarth. So, big brother, what in the seven fucking hells are you waiting for?"

Jaime choked on the rest of his ale. Aunt Genna appeared then, helpfully thumping him on the back, cutting off the conversation with Tyrion.

Late that night, lying in the guest bedroom, Jaime stared at the wall. He was attracted to Brienne, he was well aware of that. There was something about her, determination and stubbornness mostly, that drew him to her. So many people in his life had both of those qualities and used them only for their own gain, but Brienne was the opposite of all that. And yes he wanted to be with her, was jealous of other men who might have the chance he wished he could have. 

He cared about her. That was indisputable. But he'd never used the word "love" even to himself. 

_Which doesn't make it untrue,_ a voice that sounded a lot like Tyrion's said in his head.


	6. More dangerous than me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go on a date. Really!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not Thursday but I wanted to get at least one chapter up in this holiday period.

He should have been glad to be back in Braavos after so long away, but Jaime was restless. Training and patrols and the daily routine of the Army had been comforting before, but he still had bad dreams about what had happened in the Iron Islands. And every young soldier with blonde hair just made him think of Galladon Tarth, and all the other families like Brienne's who had lost a son or a brother, and for what?

Of course he was thinking about Brienne constantly too. When he admitted to his therapist that he had never dared to think of his feelings for her as "love" the man had looked at him blankly and said, "Why not?"

The answer, he realized at they talked about it, was fear. If he was in love with Brienne, he wanted to tell her, but if he told her that, there were other secrets – one in particular – he needed to tell her as well. 

But she probably would never speak to him again if he did. 

On the other hand, he was going to go completely mad if he didn't do something soon. 

He broke down and requested leave and texted Brienne to see if she'd be able to see him when he planned to be in King's Landing. If not, he'd go to Tarth. It might be easier there, he thought, to tell her everything. 

She didn't reply to his text message, which was odd. He sent a follow up that evening and was debating how insane he would look if he texted Sansa to check on her when he finally got a reply.

Brienne: Hey, sorry, I was shopping with Margaery.  
Jaime: Sounds exhausting.  
Brienne: I can't feel my feet. She should've been leading the campaign against the Ironborn, they'd've surrendered in a couple days.

He had to smile at that. Margaery definitely seemed to take after her ruthless grandmother.

Brienne: I'm not leaving for home until the beginning of next month so I'll be here when you're here.

His stomach swooped. He was really going to do this. 

Jaime: Good.  
Jaime: So what was the shopping trip for?  
Jaime: Hot date tonight? ;) 

There was a pause, the three dots appearing and disappearing a few times before she wrote back.

Brienne: As a matter of fact, I do have a date.

He nearly dropped the phone. He felt like he'd just swallowed a ball of ice. 

Jaime: Anyone I know? 

If it was that red haired northerner he was going to be sick. 

Brienne: It's Hyle. 

No, this was even worse.

Jaime: Hyle Hunt?  
Jaime: Seriously?  
Brienne: Don't start.  
Brienne: Why is everyone acting like this?  
Brienne: He's not that bad.  
Brienne: Is it such a shock that someone might want to take me to dinner?  
Brienne: Never mind. I need to go get ready.

Snarling to himself, Jaime hit the call button on his phone. It went to voicemail after several rings. He hung up and redialed, fully intending to keep calling her phone all night if it had to.

Brienne finally answered. "What?"

"I didn't mean that," he said before she could hang up. "I would never mean that. I meant you are far, far too good for Hyle fucking Hunt, Brienne." 

"Oh." She was silent a moment and Jaime could feel the words starting to clog in his throat. He was going to be spilling his guts to her over the phone while he was on another continent in a minute. "How do you even know him?"

"He was at Tyrion's party. Along with half of King's Landing. I only talked to him for a few minutes but that was more than enough." He remembered Hyle's opinions on Brienne, especially about her family fortune. He didn't want that asshole anywhere near Brienne. Or any woman, for that matter. 

Brienne sighed. "It's not even really a date, we're just having dinner. After he… we went to high school together, and I just… I'm not even really interested in him like that," Jaime pulled the phone away so his gasp of relief wouldn't be audible, "but Sansa and Margaery both said I needed to get out of the house and try to have fun." 

"Let me guess, Margaery's preferred form of getting out of the house includes retail therapy?"

She laughed lightly. "Yes, which doesn't really work for me. But she did make a valid point that I need to think more seriously about my wardrobe since I'm not going to be a lowly graduate student for much longer." 

He nodded, although she couldn't see him. His right hand balled into a fist. _For the god's sake, it's now or never, sack the fuck up, Lannister._ "Well I look forward to seeing the highlights when I'm town. And I will take you out while I'm there. Whereever you want to go." He heard, or thought he heard, Brienne's breath catch, but he kept talking. "Just don't think Hyle Hunt the Cunt is your only option, all right?"

"Jaime!" But she was laughing. "You shouldn't call him that." 

"Why, worried you'll slip up and say it aloud?"

"Ugh, you're impossible. I really do need to go." 

"Fine, wench, enjoy your not-date dinner." 

They hung up. Jaime debated for a moment then texted Sansa.

Jaime: Hyle Hunt told me once that "all women look the same in the dark."  
Jaime: And yes, I mean that's a direct quote.  
Sansa: He's such a dick. He thinks he's taking Brienne on a pity date.  
Sansa: When really it's the other way around.  
Sansa: Of course, if SOMEONE ELSE was asking Brienne out she probably would've said no.  
Sansa: It's too bad THERE ISN'T SOMEONE ELSE WHO IS TOTALLY INTO BRIENNE WHO COULD BE ASKING HER OUT HUH.

Jaime felt his ears go hot. It was the closest Sansa had gotten to confronting him directly about his feelings. 

Jaime: I'll be in KL in 3 weeks  
Sansa: Wait, seriously?  
Sansa: FINALLY?!????  
Jaime: Yes.  
Jaime: Don't freak out.  
Jaime: And don't freak Brienne out. 

He could easily imagine Sansa getting herself worked up over this and making Brienne too nervous to function. 

Her reply was a string of emojis he only partly understood. Then she added.

Sansa: It's about gods damned time  
Sansa: If you hurt her, Arya will kill you. For the record.  
Jaime: Yes, ma'am.

His hands were shaking, but he was smiling to himself at the same time. 

*~*~*~*~*

Jaime spent the next weeks being pelted with text messages from both Sansa and Margaery (and damn Sansa for giving out his number), which alternated between encouraging and threatening. At the least, Sansa reassured him that Brienne's not-date with Hyle had ended early and she hadn't seen him since then. 

His nerves were a mess by the time he got to the city. Tyrion somehow divined what was going on without having to ask a single question aloud. Apparently the look on his face was enough, or Brienne had said something to him. 

Despite advice from all three of them about long overdue grand romantic gestures, Brienne had suggested they go see a documentary on the Long Night that was playing in King's Landing. Jaime had suggested they eat at the diner not far away, which had some of the greasiest comfort food in the city. They had gone there before, so it was somewhere familiar and hopefully would soothe his anxiety. 

Tyrion rolled his eyes but did recommend Jaime put on a pair of jeans and a black sweater that had been a Sevenmas gift a couple years earlier. His advice had been sound, Jaime thought, given the way Brienne had reacted when he picked her up. 

She was wearing dark leggings and boots that drew his eye to the length and shape of her legs, underneath a blue sweater that was so soft he hadn't been able to resist tapping her arm or poking her in the side during the movie just to get to touch it. Her hair was longer now than it had been back when they first met, falling in waves over her neck, which just drew his attention to the freckles that trailed down her throat. He was fairly sure she was wearing a bit of make up as well, possibly Sansa or Margaery's doing, since both girls had been at the apartment when he picked Brienne up. (She had told him she could just come down and meet him on the street but he pictured his father's reaction to him doing a drive-by like that and parked the car and walked up to get her instead.)

They were alone the entire evening. Jaime had impulsively asked and Brienne, for some reason, had agreed that it just be the two of them for the night. Goodwin and Podrick were somewhere nearby, he was sure, but they were staying out of sight. Jaime wanted to give Brienne a normal evening, to just be two people out on a first date, no bodyguards, no titles, no external pressures. 

He hadn't really been able to pay attention to the movie, and as they left the theater in Flea Bottom to go back to his car, he was still distracted. On the one hand, he was taking Brienne home at the end of a date, which usually meant goodnight kisses, and his mind kept shorting out at the thought.

On the other hand, the obnoxious voice in his head was nagging at him. 

_She's Tyrion's teaching assistant. She was his student. She's my friend's little sister. I'm more than a decade older than she is. She doesn't know about Cersei or my father. She deserves someone who is not as messed up as me. She has a future now back on Tarth and I can't get in the way of that._

But her classes were over, and he knew she wouldn't be staying in the city forever. She had said she was planning to move back to Tarth, which meant one of these days, he was going to find out she was gone. 

And he was tired of waiting. He wanted to _know_ , one way or another, if his feelings might be returned, if Brienne might want him the way he wanted her. 

He became aware of Brienne looking at him expectantly and he realized he'd been concentrating so hard on his "why I don't deserve this" thoughts he hadn't been paying attention. 

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, wench, my mind wandered." 

"Are you ever going to stop with that?" she huffed, although Jaime didn't think the nickname really bothered her any more. 

Jaime's not-at-all flirtatious retort went unspoken as two men appeared in their path. "Well, what have we here?"

Jaime stepped in front of Brienne on blind instinct, his stomach rolling as he realized another two men had come out from the shadows behind them. The theater wasn't in a particularly nice part of the city. Shit. He should've been paying more attention to their surroundings, or made Brienne wait in the theater lobby while he got the car, or never convinced her to keep her bodyguards at a distance even for a couple of hours.

If anything happened to her, it was going to be his fault. 

Brienne's hands had gone into her pockets immediately, no doubt reaching for her keychain to hit the panic button she carried. The question was how long it would take help to arrive. 

Jaime straightened to his full height and used his best drill sergeant voice. "Can we help you?" 

"Yeah, you can give uth your wallets," the first man said, revealing the wicked looking knife he was holding. 

"We don't want any trouble," Brienne said from behind Jaime. Her back was to his and he could feel her body tensing for a fight. He tried, again, to put himself between her and the men.

"Shit, Hoat, I think that one is a woman!" 

"I'll be damned. I figured it wath a guy."

One of the assholes behind him waved another knife at Brienne. "You're great ugly cow ain't ya? Might not even be worth it."

Jaime reached back and put a hand on Brienne's arm as they started making obscene comments about what they would find under her pants, making Jaime's nerves dance with rage. "Don't you fucking touch her!" 

The men taunted him with his reaction. Brienne was straining not to lash out first, Jaime could feel it. He wouldn't have minded giving these scumbags a well-deserved beating, but not while Brienne was at risk. 

"Fine, you want my wallet, you can have it, but leave the lady alone," Jaime said, still using his Army voice, trying to push the leader of this little group of miscreants to move along. 

Hoat unfortunately didn't take advantage of Jaime's generosity. He lifted the knife to Jaime's throat, spittle from the man's lisp hitting his jacket. "Fuck you, pretty boy. This ith our part of town, and we'll take what we fucking want from you and from the ugly bitch. Maybe thee'll learn a few thingth when my boyth get through with her." Then he spat in Jaime's face.

Brienne tore herself out of Jaime's grip and lunged at the two men on her side and he had no real choice but to knock Hoat's arm and knife away and kneecap the son of a bitch before going for the other guy. Unlike Hoat, this man was larger and not entirely stupid, since he used his greater body mass to keep Jaime from knocking him down.

Tires screeched behind him and a quick look showed Goodwin and Podrick exiting a car, their guns already raised and aimed at the man Brienne was fighting. The other one was on the ground clutching his groin.

Two quick punches and a kick and Jaime had his own opponent on the ground, but he'd lost track of Hoat and suddenly a hand was gripping his right arm and with a wild yell, Hoat drove the sharp blade of his knife into Jaime's hand. For a second he just stared in disbelief at the blade, sticking out of his hand below his ring and pinkie fingers, before the pain really hit him. 

Hoat was still holding the knife and he fucking wiggled it around, like he was trying to saw the blade out of Jaime's hand and then Jaime screamed. His nervous system was too overloaded for him to fight back properly and Hoat shoved Jaime's arm to the ground and then his boot hit Jaime's hand and he screamed even louder as Hoat's boot crushed his fingers into the asphalt.

Someone knocked Hoat out and Jaime's pain level went from "blinding" back down to "excruciating." Brienne was calling his name, but Jaime just stared at the bloody mess of his right hand as the world spun around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry kids, it had to happen!


	7. This Is Hurt Like Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's stay in the hospital after the encounter with the Bloody Mummers changes things between him and Brienne, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for descriptions of past abuse in this chapter as well as transphobic comments. This is where the "not for Cersei fans" tag is particularly relevant.

When Jaime woke up in the hospital to sunlight coming in the window, he had the confused impression that he had woken up before but not entirely. He recognized the sensation of heavy painkillers muffling his thoughts. His body was stiff from being in a single position for too many hours. 

Slowly he remembered the night before. His right hand was covered in bandages. He was still staring at it when he heard his name being said.

The expression on his brother's face was enough to confirm that what Jaime was seeing was real. The smallest finger of his right hand wasn't there any more. 

"The surgeon said there may be some nerve damage to the hand in addition to the broken bones and the…" Tyrion just gestured helplessly at the empty space where Jaime's pinkie should have been. "But with some physical therapy your range of motion and dexterity should come back, mostly."

Mostly. That meant not all of it. 

"Is Brienne all right?"

"A couple of bruises, but she's fine. She just slipped out to find coffee. I tried to get her to go home but she wouldn't leave until you were fully awake."

_Of course she wouldn't_ , Jaime thought. 

Tyrion filled him in while Jaime just stared at his lap. Goodwin and Podrick had disabled the men who had attacked Jaime and Brienne and called the police and an ambulance. The men had been part of a gang that had been preying on people in Flea Bottom, the Bloody Mummers. A detective was going to come to take Jaime's statement later. 

He remembered being in the ambulance, his left hand gripping Brienne's hand tightly. There had been blood on her arm, his blood, from where she had tried to staunch the bleeding. He also remembered vomiting from the pain and disorientation before the ambulance arrived. 

Some date that turned out to be.

Tyrion tilted his head and Jaime thought he might have said that aloud.

Neither of them said anything else because the door opened and Brienne came back, holding two cardboard cups. "Oh thank the gods. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Things are a bit fuzzy. And numb." He glanced down at his hand again. Would it stay numb forever? He'd heard of people still being able to feel a limb that had been cut off. Would he feel that missing finger? He wiggled the smallest finger on his left hand. He didn't think much about that finger most of the time. It was probably like your little toe, you didn't think about it until you slammed it into something.

He looked up and found Tyrion and Brienne both watching him worriedly. "Sorry, did you say something?"

Tyrion heaved himself out of the chair. "I'm going to go tell the nurse you're awake and stretch my legs. Do you need anything? Either of you?" 

Brienne shook her head. Jaime tried to swallow. His throat hurt. "I'm thirsty." 

"I'll tell them to bring you some water." He left and Brienne sat down in the visitor's chair, perched on the edge. She was wearing the same clothes and there was some bruising on her cheek. 

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You have-" he gestured, using his right hand automatically before remembering the bandages, and there was the pain. He hissed and lowered his arm carefully back to the mattress.

Brienne had jerked forward when he grimaced. "I'm fine, Jaime, it's just some bruises." 

Knowing Brienne's penchant for not admitting she was hurt, it was probably more than that. She needed to rest, and some ice packs. "You should go home."

She drew back, wincing. "Oh. Of course, you probably want to rest-"

"No, I don't want you to go!" he blurted out. "I just… thought you should, you probably want to change your clothes. What time is it even?"

"It's just after 7 a.m."

"Rise and shine," Jaime mumbled. 

Brienne didn't say anything and when he looked back at her, she was staring at his hand. Her eyes lifted to his and he was horrified to see tears in them. "Brienne, what's wrong?"

She looked… annoyed? Then she sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry, Jaime." She looked away. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have fought back. I should've let them take our wallets and waited for help to come."

She was _blaming_ herself? "Brienne, it's not your fault."

"I hit first," she said, shaking her head. "I knew Goodwin and Pod were nearby. I never should've… Goodwin wasn't happy that I wanted them to stay away, I shouldn't have agreed."

"Brienne, stop! It was my dumb idea! I'm the idiot who wanted to go running around Flea Bottom without your bodyguards. It was stupid. I never should have asked." It certainly seemed ridiculous in hindsight. What would it have mattered to have Goodwin and Pod lurking somewhat closer than they had been? He'd still have a whole hand and might have even gotten to kiss her goodnight instead of making her sit in a hospital emergency room for hours. 

She seemed to get lost in her own thoughts for a minute. Jaime glanced at the door, hoping the nurse would show up soon with the water he asked for. 

Brienne lifted the bag in her lap, which he hadn't noticed before. 

"Where'd you get that?"

"I… well, I was passing the hospital gift shop, they were just opening. It's silly but I got you a-" She reached into the bag and pulled out a stuffed bear. It had brown fur and was holding a heart between its paws that said "Get well soon!" 

Jaime reached over with his left hand. "It's cute. I don't think I've had a stuffed animal since Tyrion stole my favorite stuffed lion toy." 

"Excuse me, you gave Ser Golden Mane to me," Tyrion said from the doorway. "You left him with me when you were sent to Crakehall, told me to look after him until you came back." 

Jaime chuckled, which made him cough, so he was doubly grateful for the nurse who came bustling in on Tyrion's heels, carrying a large cup of ice chips with a straw. 

The nurse answered some questions and gave him more pain medication. Tyrion and Brienne both left to go home for a while since Jaime was already falling back to sleep. 

He woke up again hours later, in time to speak to the surgeon at length about his prognosis. The missing finger wasn't pretty but for most basic daily functions, it wouldn't matter. The nerve damage to the rest of his hand was more serious. Physical and occupational therapy would help, but the hand would never have the same grip strength again. 

After listening to a long-winded explanation full of medical jargon, Jaime pinned the woman with a look and asked her the only question that mattered. 

She admitted he was probably never going to serve in a combat unit again. 

So he had that to brood about in between falling asleep from the painkillers. His brother and Brienne both came back to visit him, Brienne arriving with Sansa in tow. That distracted him for a little while, until visiting hours were over and he was alone in the gray hospital room for the night. 

The next morning he was, unfortunately, awake when his father put in an appearance on his way to the office. Jaime was still disoriented from the last round of drugs and desperately needed to get up to piss, but his father didn't seem to notice. He delivered another lecture about Jaime's foolish behavior and Jaime braced himself, sure of what was coming next: another in a long line of his father's scoldings about how Jaime needed to start behaving like an adult and quit the Army.

Then, to his shock, Tywin cleared his throat. "I know that I haven't been supportive of your military career in the past, but I can't deny that you've served the country honorably. That's something to be proud of." 

Jaime gaped, unable to formulate any words. His father had never once in his life even hinted that he was proud of him.

Of course, whatever glimmer of humanity had surface disappeared immediately as his father continued, "But now-" he gestured to Jaime's damaged hand, "you must realize it's time for you to retire. War is a young man's game, and with this you'll likely be relegated to a desk for the rest of your career. And it's long past time you started to learn about your future role in Lannister Enterprises." 

Tywin didn't even bother to wait for a real response, just said something about a specialist and then departed. Jaime didn't know how long he would've been frozen in shock if his bladder wasn't insisting he move.

The specialist turned out to be an orthopedist who appeared later in the day and reviewed Jaime's case file, only to tell him the same thing his original doctor had said. After a brief visit from Tyrion late in the morning, Jaime also spoke with a physical therapist about how to manage his arm and cast for the time being. The nurses had weaned him off the heavy-duty painkillers as well, so by late in the afternoon, Jaime was climbing the walls, waiting for Brienne to return as she had promised to do the night before. 

But when the door opened, it was the last person he wanted to see.

"My dear brother. I was so worried."

Cersei looked flawless as usual in a designer suit and coat. She was carrying flowers, probably because of the possibility of being photographed going into the hospital to visit her brother. But from the minute she walked into the room, her eyes were fixed on his hand.

"So it's true," she said, looking appalled. 

"Like you care?" 

She set the expensive bouquet down. "Of course I care, Jaime. You were my brother, my other half." He didn't miss her use of the past tense. "I always knew something like this would happen, ever since you ran away from your family."

"Got out from under your thumb, you mean," he retorted. 

"I warned you, over and over. Running around with your guns and chasing bad guys all over the world, like you were some sort of hero. Where did that get you? You could have had everything. Money, power, a luxurious life here in civilization, with me. And you threw it all away." 

He tried, he really did, to put some emotional distance between them like a barrier, but he could feel how fragile it was. "You realize I was mugged here in civilization, right? I've done three combat tours and my worst injury came from some thugs in Flea Bottom." He waved his bandaged hand in her face. She jerked back, like his mutilated hand might be contagious.

Cersei sneered and Jaime wondered how he had ever thought her beautiful. "Look at you now. A crippled old man. You and that miserable imp are a matched pair now. The monster Lannister brothers."

Tyrion had always been the easiest way to make Jaime mad. "Fuck you, Cersei," he spat, his voice shaking. "Oh wait, been there, done that. Never doing it again."

She leaned closer, a cruel smile on her face now. "Doesn't matter. I was still your first. I always will be. You will always be mine." 

Bile rose in his throat. He could feel her words like nails digging into his skin, a trap he couldn't escape. "No." His voice sounded weak to his own ears. "I'm not your possession, Cersei." 

She laughed, delighted to have drawn blood. "You see? You tried to leave me and look! Look where you ended up! Broken, useless, and alone, forever."

"He's not alone," Brienne said from the doorway. "And he's certainly neither useless or broken." Jaime hadn't heard her enter and now he really thought he might vomit. How much had she heard?

Brienne stepped into the room and came to Jaime's side, putting down the paperback book and the magazine she had clearly been bringing for him. She was in her usual clothes, with a heavy knit wrap thing around her shoulders due to the cold weather. Cersei looked her over with a calculating expression. Jaime wanted to step forward, get in between them and shield Brienne from whatever attack was about to come out of his twin's mouth. 

"Gods, you are ugly. Are you one of those deranged men who goes around insisting they're really women? Or vice versa? You're not good looking enough to be either."

Jaime cringed, remembering the first thing he'd ever said to Brienne, but she just rolled her eyes at his sister. "Yes, insulting my looks. How original. No one has ever thought to do that before." 

Cersei's gaze went behind Brienne. Goodwin had followed her into Jaime's room and the bodyguard folded his hands together in front of him. The gesture was slow and deliberate, like Goodwin was restraining himself from intervening and Jaime saw a flicker of uncertainty go across Cersei's face.

Brienne faced her undaunted. "Jaime isn't alone. Or have you not taken a good look around?" 

She had a point. During the course of the day there had been a stream of deliveries. There were flower arrangements on the windowsill, one from Catelyn and Ned, another from Selwyn, with a note from the king thanking Jaime for protecting his daughter. Brienne had clearly not informed her father that she had only been in danger because of Jaime's foolish romantic notions. 

Sansa had brought a plant, which Jaime was sure was going to die a quick death in Tyrion's apartment, but he appreciated the thought. Bronn had arrived with an enormous arrangement of balloons that was filling up a corner and had made Jaime grin in spite of himself every time he saw it.

On the table next to his bed was the stuffed bear Brienne had brought him. 

"All of these are from people who care about Jaime." Brienne reached for his left hand. He wasn't sure she was even aware of it, she was so focused on his sister. "And if your positions were reversed somehow, if you were in here instead of him, I'm sure the room would be full of flowers, but how many of them would be from people who genuinely cared about your well-being? You'd have a lot of visitors, but they'd be your society wives, not coming for you but to see you miserable and go away and gossip about you behind your back. Because you're the one who is alone." 

Cersei sputtered but Brienne wasn't done. "And I think you know it. That's why you're so angry at Jaime. He has friends, people who love him because he's a good man with a good heart. That's why he'll never be alone, not like you."

Jaime was squeezing Brienne's hand so hard it probably hurt. Cersei shot a wild look at him and he shook his head before she could speak. "Get out. Don't come back." 

His sister stormed off. Jaime stared at his feet. His eyes were burning and he could feel his face and neck turning bright red. 

He heard the door to the hospital room close and sensed that Goodwin had gone into the hallway. Brienne sat down on the edge of his bed, not letting go of his hand. "Jaime? Are you all right?"

He shook his head. 

Her other hand appeared in front of him, reaching for his face. He leaned into the touch and when the tears started to spill over, let her pull him forward into her arms. It was humiliating, crying in front of her like a child, and he hid his face against her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Her reply was instant and nearly a growl. "Don't. You have nothing to apologize for." 

He leaned back, letting Brienne get him some tissues and fuss with his pillows while he got himself together. But hiding from it wasn't going to make it go away. He forced himself to look at her. "How much of that did you hear?"

Brienne looked so uncomfortable that he knew she knew the truth. But all she said was, "Just the tail end of it."

So, this was the moment. The thing that had always been there, lurking in the background any time he let himself imagine being with Brienne, telling her how he felt about her, had slipped into the light. He could pretend it hadn't and Brienne would try to go along with it. They could try to go back to the way things were before. 

His hand was never going to be the same. Jaime was never going to be the same. And even if Brienne could never return his feelings, he didn't want to lie to her. 

Jaime nodded toward the bed and Brienne sat down next to him again. "You're right. The thing that you're thinking and want to ask but are afraid to know the answer to? You're right." He sighed and scrubbed his left hand over his face. "I should start at the beginning.

"You know my mother died when Tyrion was born. My father just turned to ice once she was gone. He was either absent or demanding, but he wasn't a father in any sense. And Cersei, she loathes Tyrion to this day. She blames him, even though it wasn't his fault. Our Aunt Genna said the doctors said even if Tyrion had been a normal baby, the same thing would've happened. 

"I couldn't hate Tyrion, no matter how much Cersei wanted me to. He was my little brother, and a baby. I tried to protect him from her, so I would do whatever she wanted me to do. When we were kids it wasn't a big deal. As long as I kept her happy, she'd either leave Tyrion alone or sometimes pretend like things were normal. Usually because of my father, that last one. We all learned early on that I was the only one he would punish. He couldn't bring himself to hit Tyrion, and he wouldn't hit Cersei, but he could do it to me."

Brienne had gone pale. Jaime knew his voice had become toneless and matter-of-fact as it always did when he talked about this. 

"I used to think that was the thing that could bring us all together. Cersei would manipulate me, and I would let her do it to protect Tyrion, but all three of us would do whatever we could do to avoid getting in trouble with my father, because they knew I'd be the one to pay for it."

"Jaime, he… he hit you?"

He nodded. "Slaps, mostly. He only used his belt the one time, when Cersei and I were 14." He cleared his throat. Talking about Tywin was actually the easiest part of this. "Cersei was my first kiss. We were maybe 7 years old," he hastened to add. "We had no idea what it meant, obviously, not then. My mother was still alive and she gave us a huge lecture. She almost never got mad, so it scared me. But a few years later, Cersei had started reading these teen girl magazines and told me she wanted to practice kissing for when we were grown up.

"It had been just the two of us, when we were small. We looked so much alike we could switch clothes and most people wouldn't even notice. Cersei always said I was her perfect mirror." He glanced at his mangled right hand. "Add in teenage hormones and years of her manipulating me with Tyrion, and you can probably figure out what came next." 

He couldn't bring himself to look at Brienne, so he stared at her hand, which was resting on her thigh. "Was that- is that what made your father…?"

"He caught us. He came home unexpectedly. We'd already had sex, but he didn't know that. He just found us kissing and wrestling around. He took off his belt and whipped me until I couldn't move."

Her hand moved and closed over his forearm, the same way it had done when he told her about Aerys. 

"After that he sent us to separate boarding schools. But, uh, it backfired. At first I was just a teenage boy. I was horny as hell and the only girl I was ever around was Cersei, because my father was an arrogant asshole who didn't want us mingling with people who weren't as rich as we were. And Cersei made it sound logical. We were twins, we were two halves of the same person. Of course we should be each other's firsts. We were _the only two people who mattered_." He had to stop, take a sip of water and keep from gagging as he remembered her voice whispering those words in his ear. "When my father tried to separate us, then it also became about saying fuck you to Tywin. The more he tried to keep us apart, the more I believed it was some sort of epic romance and she fed that idea. I think she realized pretty early on that this was another way to control me. 

"Cersei dated other boys. She said it was to convince our father that everything was normal. I tried, a few times, but it was for show. I never looked at any other girl. I was faithful."

"She wasn't." It wasn't a question.

"No, but my stupid ass didn't realize it until years later." He couldn't help the self-disgust that had crept into his voice. "Anyway, I wanted to enlist. I had wanted to be a soldier since I was a boy. My father forbade it, which of course made me more determined to do it. 

"I didn't expect Cersei to take his side. I loved- thought I loved her. I gave her everything, whatever she asked of me. I wanted her to have whatever she wanted. This was the one thing I ever wanted for myself. She argued with me, tried to convince me not to join." _Fucked me senseless_ he remembered, though he didn't say it aloud. "But I wouldn't listen. Not about this. Cersei was furious with me. She wouldn't speak to me for days. She told me I was betraying her. That I was being selfish for wanting to go off and get myself killed and leaving her alone." It sounded so silly when he said it aloud now. He had been horribly hurt by her accusations then, but not enough to change his mind. 

Looking back, that was the first break between the two of them. Thank the gods. 

"I enlisted on our 18th name-day. I came home and put the papers on my father's desk."

Brienne was tense. "Did he hit you again?" 

"No. I was of age. He couldn't undo it. He did pull strings and required that I get a college degree first. My grades were shit, because of the dyslexia. My teachers knew unofficially but he was obsessed with keeping it hidden, protecting the Lannister name, so I never got the help I needed. The only college I could get into was in Dorne. 

"The freshmen were assigned a mentor during orientation. Mine was a girl, Elia Martell."

She startled. "Wait, those Martells?"

He felt a small grin tugging at his lips. "Yep. You see, you're not my first brush with royalty, your highness." 

Brienne rolled her eyes, but she didn't let go of his arm. 

"Elia wasn't stupid. She caught on to the dyslexia pretty quick and brought me to the learning center on campus. It was the first time I had actual help with reading or taking tests. The first time I got a C+ on a paper I wrote, I was over the fucking moon." Tyrion, or even Cersei, would routinely freak out over getting anything less than an A. When Jaime had gotten that paper back he had never been prouder. 

His smile faded. "Elia and I became friends. We were at a party one night at the end of second semester and she kissed me. I didn't see it coming. I was so used to not thinking about girls because of Cersei, and I'd been in an all-boys school since I was a kid. I hadn't realized she liked me." 

"What happened?"

He drew in a deep breath. "My mind went blank. I don't actually remember her kissing me. When I start remembering again, I was standing next to my car and Elia was shaking me. I had just… gone away inside.

"Like I said, Elia was smart. She was a psychology major. She knew what had happened wasn't normal. I tried to brush it off, make a joke. But I went home for break and I realized it had happened before." He decided to skip the story of that time, Cersei trying to lure him back into her thrall and Jaime trying to pretend things were back to normal but failing. "The next year Elia finally convinced me to talk to someone. It took three tries. The first time I walked into the health center, I panicked and said I thought I'd sprained my wrist. Of course nothing was wrong with it. The nurse threw a bandage at me and sent me home. 

"The second time I was going to walk into the counseling center but there was a guy in the waiting area that I knew. So I told the receptionist I needed an STD test. Loudly." Brienne snorted, then slapped a hand over her mouth. "It's fine, you can laugh. Such a bone-headed teenage boy thing to do, right?" He didn't tell her that he had been relieved when the test had come back negative. 

"I finally did it because I realized I'd gone away in my head again one afternoon. I was alone when it happened and I was scared as hell."

"That's dissociation, isn't it?" Brienne asked, her voice quiet. "Like what happened with Bolton?"

Jaime nodded. "It's fairly common for people who've been through some sort of trauma. I didn't remember my father hitting me with the belt back then. I had gone away while it happened and just… put it aside." He tried to make it a joke but it failed. "It turned out there was a lot that I had forgotten or gone away from over the years. It took most of the rest of my 20s to deal with most of it, and that was while I was serving." Fresh trauma being added on top of his buried memories had meant some days he had struggled just to get out of bed.

Brienne swallowed. She moved her hand down to wrap around his left again. "Jaime, when you confronted Aerys…?"

"No, I was present for all of that, while it happened. I blanked out for a while after he was dead, when they took me into custody. It's been a while since I had an… an episode, but it's always possible if something triggers a memory." It was remarkable that it hadn't happened in the last few days, or even during the Mummers' attack.

Brienne opened her lips and then closed them, like she was cutting off a question. He tried to guess what it was she was going to ask about.

"I haven't been with Cersei since my second year of college. Being in the Army turned out to be the best way to get away from her. I never complained about being overseas or not having a lot of leave, because it kept me away from her and our father." It had also kept him away from Tyrion, unfortunately, something his brother had never entirely forgiven.

Brienne shook her head. "I couldn't believe she was speaking to you that way. Galladon and I… we had fights when we were younger, kid stuff, but I never would have spoken to my own brother like that." Her fingers were gripping his tightly and her other hand was forming a fist. She was angry at Cersei. Angry on his behalf. 

Gods, he loved her. All his excuses, months and years of denials, all of it felt ridiculous in the face of the truth. He was hopelessly in love with Brienne.

Not that he could tell her right now. She would just blame the drugs and the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. 

In spite of everything, he felt a smile tugging at his lips. "You look furious."

She bristled. "Well, yes, I am! Your sister better never cross paths with me again." She gave him a tentative smile. "I'm not afraid to hit an old lady." 

Jaime burst out laughing, relief flooding his chest with warmth. _She doesn't hate me. There's that at least._


	8. Breaking You With Gentle Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected event alters the course of Jaime's life and career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to "canon in a blender" plotting. If the first part of this fic was "Jaime getting in his own way" this part is "the entire universe keeps getting in Jaime's way."

The first week of medical leave wasn't that bad. Jaime more or less moved into Tyrion's guest room for the duration, so he had his brother around to annoy. Brienne was still in the city, and Jaime wound up spending a lot of time camped out on the couch in the apartment she shared with Sansa, catching up on a series of comic book movies that he had missed while he was overseas. He purloined one of Sansa's knitting needles to scratch under his cast, but aside from the ache in his hand and having to try to do everything with his left he was coping.

Brienne had to go back to Tarth, though, and although she had been friendly and supportive, they hadn't talked about his hospital room confession at all, much less their disastrous date. Jaime couldn't find the words to raise the subject, afraid to find out that Brienne had come to the rational conclusion that being more than friends with him was not an appealing prospect.

With Brienne gone, he was at loose ends and moped around the apartment most of the time and ducking his father and sister's attempts to contact him. Sansa was working and Tyrion was in between semesters but neck-deep in revisions of his dissertation, which was going to be published in a few months, and all of Jaime's other friends were comrades who were still serving. His unit had packed his things and sent his trunk from Braavos, along with get well cards that ranged from humorous to raunchy. Jaime did not want to know where Lyanna Mormont had learned about some of these things. 

Finally he got the cast off and took the most satisfying shower of his life before spending a long while staring at the scars on his hand, including the ridge of skin that had been sewn over where his pinkie had been. It was a strange sensation. 

After that he had occupational and physical therapy appointments to juggle. He was eating breakfast with Tyrion one morning about two months after leaving the hospital when the landline rang. They both frowned. Jaime didn't think that phone was even in use. 

Tyrion answered the call. "Hello? Yes?" Tyrion gaped and then grew pale as the conversation went on. "Are you certain? Yes, all right. Jaime and I will be there shortly." He hung up the receiver and just stared at it.

"What's wrong?"

Tyrion lifted his eyes from the phone. "Father's dead." 

Jaime fumbled the spoon he was holding and it clattered onto the table. "What?"

"That was Croat, the butler, he said he found father this morning and called the ambulance but it was too late. They need us to head over to the house." 

Jaime could only nod. His head swam with questions the entire ride over to the ostentatious mansion in one of the older and wealthier areas of King's Landing. The butler, a man old and wooden who had been that way since Jaime was a little boy, curtly answered the door and directed them to the ambulance medics who were getting ready to leave.

Tyrion was more focused and able to ask questions. The medic said it looked like a stroke, but there would need to be an autopsy to be sure. It had probably been quick. Certainly it was unexpected. Jaime followed his brother down the hall where the medic pointed them. Tywin was on the floor of the bathroom, where he had been found by Croat, under a sheet that had been drawn over the body by the medics. 

Jaime was still trying to process everything when Tyrion abruptly turned and hurried down the hall and ducked into one of the guest bedrooms. Jaime followed, alarmed, and found Tyrion leaning against the bed, his face in his hands. "Tyrion?"

Tyrion's shoulders shook. Jaime crouched down next to him. He wasn't expecting Tyrion to be this upset given the frigid relationship between him and their father. Then Tyrion drew in a deep breath and Jaime realized he wasn't crying. 

He was laughing. 

"Tyrion," he said, this time accusing.

"I know. I'm sorry," Tyrion squeaked out. "I shouldn't be… it's just… Jaime, I think he was on the toilet." His hands slid down so that they were covering the lower half of his face. Jaime could see Tyrion's eyes were wide and watering. "He- he died having a stroke while _taking a shit_ I can't-" 

Jaime snorted involuntarily, immediately trying to stifle it, which made him choke, and the gurgling noise set Tyrion off more, then Jaime was laughing too. Which was awful and… _shitty_ \- Jaime slapped a hand over his mouth even though he hadn't said it aloud and fell on his backside - and oh gods it wasn't funny, it really wasn't. But he couldn't stop.

Several hysterical minutes went by before they could pull themselves together enough to leave the room.

*~*~*~*~*

Despite the fact that Tywin hadn't been all that old or in any way ill, he had laid out detailed plans for his burial, including who was to be invited, who should preside, etc. Jaime found himself handling most of the arrangements since he had the most time on his hands. He did his best to avoid his twin as he handled getting their father's remains back to Casterly Rock, where the usual seven-day mourning period seemed crowded and chaotic due to the sheer number of cousins who turned up. Jaime gave up trying to mediate arguments between Cersei and random relatives she was accusing of trying to steal items from the house. He and his Aunt Genna had their hands full with the actual funeral, which took place in the gilded sept in the Rock, and was full to the brim with people come to see Tywin to his final rest.

Or ensure the old man was really dead. 

Either way, Tywin Lannister had been well-known and it seemed like every house in Westeros and every business associate showed up for the funeral. Lannisport was full and Genna had spent hours with the caterers preparing a luncheon to feed the guests fitting for a Lannister. Jaime absolutely did not care about any of it, but it had to be done, so he endured the planning and the looks and questions from everyone expecting something from him as the heir apparent.

He'd never wanted to be back in Braavos more in his life. 

Finally, he was in the sept standing in between Tyrion and Cersei, the better to keep them from sniping at each other in public. _Story of my life_. He just had to get through this, he reminded himself. The funeral and this day were the last part of this ordeal, then it would be over. All of these people would go away and he could sleep for a week.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Cersei hissed from beside him.

"Who?" Robert asked. He was on Cersei's other side.

"Ned Stark."

"Ned's here?"

Robert wasn't the only one turning to look. Jaime craned his neck and saw Ned a couple rows back in the sept, Cat at his side. Jaime didn't know when the last time Ned and Robert had spoken was, but his attention was pulled away from that question when he realized the Starks weren't alone.

Arya was talking to her father, with Sansa standing next to Brienne. Margaery Tyrell was on Brienne's other side. 

Jaime felt a lump forming in his throat. Ned and Cat might have come to the funeral out of politeness, but Arya and Sansa hadn't needed to be there. Arya's brief nod seemed to confirm why the girls had come with Brienne.

Then he realized Cat was speaking to a burly man in the row behind her. Brynden Tully's hair had gone mostly gray but he was still hard to miss, and he was standing next to Arthur Dayne in the same pew as Addam. Several of Jaime's other Army friends were grouped there as well. Not one of them had known his father. 

He was already in danger of tearing up when he caught sight of a woman standing in the back row. He hadn't seen her in over a decade, but her face was impossible to forget. 

Elia gave him a small smile and an awkward wave, the most she could do under the circumstances. Jaime would have broken the rules about the family staying together if the music hadn't begun at that moment, indicating the service was starting. 

Jaime turned back to face the coffin and the septon and clenched his jaw to keep the tears in his eyes at bay.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The receiving line was its own form of torture. Jaime was still wedged between his siblings because Cersei insisted on being the last in line as the first-born (by seven minutes). Between the two of them and the false or maliciously simpering condolences of the attendees, he was getting ready to scream by the time the line was nearly done.

Margaery reached him first. "Hey Army." She reached up and hugged him. Jaime returned the embrace; he could practically feel Cersei's eyes burning a hole in his back. "Grandmother sends her condolences to your family," Margaery said.

"Condolences or congratulations?"

She gave him a wry smile. "I'm supposed to be on my best behavior so I'm not answering that."

"Well, I appreciate you coming in any case."

"Thank Brienne," she said. "She told me she was definitely going to be here and she said she thought you maybe could use some friendly faces right now."

Brienne had been crouched down, speaking to Tyrion. "She was right, as always."

She straightened, smoothing a hand down the black skirt of her dress to ensure it didn't ride up. She moved to shake his hand but Jaime reached out and wrapped his arms around her for a moment. He pressed his lips to her cheek and whispered, "Thank you for being here" before he pulled back, mindful of all the eyes watching them.

Her blue eyes met his. "Of course." For a long moment they stared at each other before Margaery took Brienne's arm. She somehow knew better than to have Brienne speak with his sister, because she turned to Robert. "Prime Minister, I'm not sure if you've met Princess Brienne of Tarth?"

Robert's eyes raked over Brienne as he held out his hand. "Yes, I believe so, you're Renly's great- um" whatever he had been about to say he swallowed it back quickly, "um, friend."

The Starks were the last people in line. Jaime accepted a solid handshake from Arya, who then hung back where Sansa was speaking with Tyrion rather than interrupt the conversation happening between Robert, Margaery, and Brienne (or just steering clear of Cersei). Catelyn offered him a brief hug and Ned simply shook his hand. The rest of the line of Lannisters had fractured and most people were heading into the hall where the reception was, but a not-insignificant number of them were lingering to watch as Ned and Robert came face to face. 

Jaime didn't know if the two men had spoken since Ned's resignation. Jaime had been too busy fighting in Pyke to follow politics, but according to Tyrion, Robert's government had barely survived Ned's departure. Stannis, the other Baratheon brother, had sided with the opposition during a no confidence vote. Robert had squeaked through, but Tyrion's opinion was that the Baratheon government would fall as soon as there was a promising enough challenger to rally the opposition parties together. 

Jaime used the distraction to slip away to the other side of the room, where Elia was lurking. He couldn't blame her for wanting to steer clear of both the Starks and his sister, given everything that had happened with her ex-husband. 

She smiled at him, the same gentle smile he remembered from college. "Hi Jaime."

He hugged her for a long minute. "It's good to see you, El."

"You too, despite the circumstances." They finally separated and she ran a hand down his arm. "I just felt like I couldn't not be here today. Though it looks like you're not entirely alone." There was a question in her eyes. 

"No, though I'm as surprised as you are. I didn't know who was coming. It's been crazy here, cousins coming out of the woodwork." 

His attempted evasion didn't work. It never had on her. "Mm-hmm. So how exactly do you know the princess of Tarth?"

"OK no, no way. You could not possibly think there was something going on there, I talked to her for barely a minute! 

Elia threw back her head and laughed. It wasn't the same laugh he remembered from college, but it was still lovely. "I saw the pining going on from over here! Besides the tabloids were talking about how you defended her honor against some attackers in King's Landing?" 

Jaime gave a theatrical groan. "Why did I ever miss you?" 

Still smiling, Elia slipped her hand into his elbow, steering him away from the noise in the hall. "Well, come on, give me the tour and tell me everything."

Glad of the excuse to stay away from the masses gobbling up the free lunch in the hall, Jaime started walking. "Well I made an ass of myself the first time I met her..." 

*~*~*~*~*

He should have known.

That was what would drive Jaime insane for years after the fact. He should have seen it coming. 

There was no way Tywin Lannister was going peacefully to his eternal punishment in whichever was the lowest of the seven hells without one last strike at his offspring.

The reading of the will was just as tedious as Jaime expected. There were various bits and pieces of property and trust funds that had to be doled out to various relatives. All the while Jaime was half expecting not to even hear his own name. He and Tyrion had speculated on the trip back to King's Landing that Tywin might very well have just left everything to Cersei. 

Finally, the lawyer had gone through every other possible family member and came to the subparagraph or whatever it was dealing with the three Lannister children.

"To my son Tyrion," the lawyer droned, "I leave my personal collection of art and rare books, stored in the vault in my home in King's Landing, along with stock representing the controlling interest in Dragonglass Press, LLC."

Tyrion's jaw dropped open. So did Jaime's. That was the kind of thing a father who actually gave a shit about his son might have done. So not something Tywin would ever do for his ugly, dwarf son.

It should have been Jaime's first warning sign, but he was too stunned to think.

"To my daughter Cersei, I leave a selection of jewelry belonging to her mother's family, which is collected in a case in the vault of my home in King's Landing, along with the deeds to three properties which I have held in trust in her mother's name." Cersei looked torn between pleased at having their mother's things and murderous that she hadn't gotten control of Lannister Enterprises.

At that moment, Jaime thought he knew what was coming, and he wasn't surprised. "To my son Jaime, I leave my personal assets with the exceptions listed within this document, ownership of the ancestral seat of Casterly Rock, and the presidency of Lannister Enterprises." 

There it was. Everything his father had repeatedly tried to force onto him was sitting on the table and being shoved at him. Everything his brother and sister would have given their right hands – their intact right hands - to have, that he didn't even want, was landing in his lap. Jaime exchanged a rueful look with Tyrion while Cersei's teeth were audibly grinding together.

Then the lawyer cleared his throat and delivered the real blow. "Should Jaime refuse to accept any part of this bequest, the previous provisions of this subsection are void."

The entire room froze for a long moment as the shriveled man behind the desk set the paper down and folded his hands without his expression changing. 

"What does that mean?" Cersei snapped.

"It means if Jaime refuses, none of us get anything," Tyrion said before the lawyer could respond. 

Both Tyrion and Cersei turned to look at Jaime. He stared at the man across the desk, his mind trying to wrap itself around his father's terms.

_Fuck. Oh fuck. Of course he would. Of course he fucking would do this. Even dead and buried the old bastard had to reach back and fuck with us one last time._

Cersei was on her feet screaming at him, while Aunt Genna held her back and Tyrion got in her way. Jaime couldn't speak, he couldn't fucking think. He bolted from the room and didn't look back. 

*~*~*~*~*

Jaime hadn't gotten blackout drunk since he was in college. He was about 15 years older now so it probably hadn't taken as much alcohol to accomplish it, but he became aware at some point that he was utterly hammered. 

Then he was somewhere warm and he passed out.

Eventually, in the dim hours before dawn, Jaime became conscious long enough to drag himself into the nearby bathroom. When he came back he saw by the light of the clock that there was a glass of water and an open bottle of painkillers on the table next to the bed. He sipped the water and once he was sure he wasn't going to vomit, took two of the pills and crawled back into the bed. His last thought before he passed out again was that he should thank his brother for taking care of him, as usually Tyrion would have let him suffer. 

An unknown time later, he managed to wake up fully. His mouth tasted awful and his head hurt like it had been stomped by an aurochs, or possibly a dragon. He stretched and burrowed his head into the pillow, moaning against the pain. 

His feet didn't fall off the end of the bed, which was odd. Tyrion's guest room only held a regular size mattress and Jaime always had to curl up to fit. 

The pillow was more comfortable than he remembered, and the bed smelled… wonderful. Familiar? But not like it normally did.

He pried one eye open. This wasn't Tyrion's guest room.

He jerked upright and then clutched at his head as pain exploded through his skull. He had to take slow, measured breaths in and out to keep his stomach from rebelling, and as he waited, the previous day came back to him. The lawyer, the will, his father's vengeance, running out of the building like his ass was on fire, finding a bar and then… nothing. 

He looked around the room. It was clearly a woman's bedroom, based on the décor and the number of pillows on the bed, but he didn't recognize it. His stomach turned over again. At least he knew it wasn't Cersei's home, not based on the blue walls and the desk piled with books in one corner. 

_Seven hells. Tell me I didn't have sex with a stranger last night._ He'd never had a hook up in his life. Had he been drunk enough last night to do it?

Then he noticed the familiar sweater hanging off the back of the chair, plus some of the photos on the bookcase. That combined with the smell…

_This is Brienne's room_

His heartrate skyrocketed.

_I'm in Brienne's bed._

No, no, no, fuck no. Please no. _Gods be good, I cannot have had sex with Brienne while I was so drunk I wouldn't remember it!_

But as he looked around, the other side of the bed was still mostly intact with no sign anyone else had slept there. Jaime carefully pulled the blankets back and let out a huge sigh of relief at seeing his boxers. 

And really, he didn't think Brienne was the type to fall into bed with him when he was that drunk.

Still, he was shirtless and in Brienne's bed in nothing but his underwear, with no memory of how he got to her apartment or into this state. 

He shut his eyes. _Never thought I'd be happy to wake up in her bed alone._ In his fantasies they were always together the morning after.

He cut that thought off. 

He was able to stand and make his way to the bathroom on wobbly legs. He splashed water on his face and found her mouthwash to dispel the horrible taste on his tongue. When he came out he noticed his clothes from the day before were neatly folded and waiting on her desk chair. He pulled on the pants and the t-shirt before making his way to the kitchen.

It was earlier than he feared, just before 8. That was good in that he hadn't missed the entire day, but bad in that the two women who lived in the apartment were sitting at the kitchen table having their coffee. 

"Morning sunshine!" Sansa chirped, her voice at an absolutely deafening volume given the state of his head. 

"I hate you," Jaime mumbled, wincing and rubbing his eyes. 

"Is that any way to talk to the roommate of the woman who came to your rescue last night?" 

Jaime slid his hand down to cover his mouth and looked anxiously at Brienne. She tilted her head at him and he shook his head back. She got up and patted his arm. "Water or coffee?"

"Water, please." He sat down at the table and accepted the glass. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. 

"For?" Sansa asked, grinning.

"Sansa."

"Oh come on. He calls you, dramatically begging you to rescue him because it's 'your turn,' strips himself nearly naked in the foyer and passes out in your bed. Not that I didn't appreciate the show, but I get to mock!" 

Jaime braced his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. Brienne said something to Sansa he didn't quite make out and a minute later she tugged on his arm. 

"It's not as bad as she's making it sound," Brienne tried to reassure him. 

"Which part? I woke up in my underwear, so I'm pretty sure the stripper act is accurate."

"You're hot," Brienne said, and then blushed. "You _were_ hot. You said. You were really drunk and, um, sweating a lot. You kept your clothes on during the taxi ride but once we got inside you were complaining about the temperature and I couldn't really stop you."

"I didn't want to stop you," Sansa put in, still smirking. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. "Maybe I should start at the beginning. You called last night around 9. I could tell you were drunk over the phone. You'd gotten tossed out of a bar because they cut you off. You didn't know what part of the city you were in and you said you couldn't call Tyrion for some reason, so you flagged down a taxi and I gave the driver my address. After you got here and… well, got comfortable, I forced some water into you and you nearly fell asleep on the couch."

"So she tucked you into her bed," Sansa concluded. Brienne glared at her but Sansa was unperturbed. 

"Our guest bed is too small for someone your size, and I was afraid you'd fall on the floor. Plus there's no attached bathroom, so I put you in my room. And I texted Tyrion and let him know where you were." Brienne's face was turning pink again and in other circumstances Jaime thought he would probably be enjoying this, but not this time. 

He'd been drunk off his ass, upset and lost and alone and Brienne had let him come to her home and taken care of him and put him somewhere safe so he could sleep it off. He was sure she hadn't even taken the cash for the taxi out of his wallet. 

If he hadn't already realized he was in love with her, that moment would have done it. 

He reached over and wrapped his hand around hers and waited until she met his eyes. "Thank you." _And thank all Seven Gods you were in the city when I needed you._

She squeezed his fingers. "You're welcome. You want any breakfast? We have cereal and toast." 

She made him two slices of toast and Jaime explained briefly about his father's will and the conditions. There was no point in keeping it secret and he would have told Brienne anyway. Both of them were horrified that his father would do such a thing, pitting his children against each other like that. 

At some point Sansa handed him his cell phone, which she had plugged in to charge because despite taking the piss out of him she was a decent person. He had a multitude of text messages from Tyrion as well as missed calls from Cersei, his Uncle Kevan, and his Aunt Genna. The last text message from his brother was short. "Brienne told me you're alive. Sober up and we'll talk." 

Sansa had to leave to go to work, so Jaime was soon alone with Brienne in her kitchen, watching the winter rain fall down her windows. Brienne puttered around with the breakfast dishes and then made some tea before sitting back down. "So?"

Jaime stared out at the city. "I don't really have a choice, do I."

"Of course you do, Jaime."

He turned to her. "I can't do that to Tyrion. Even Cersei, I can't be the reason they get nothing."

"So you're choosing to be a better man than your father." 

"I'm not." He clenched his fists. "I hate him so much. I hate that he's going to win on this. I've spent my entire gods damned life refusing to be his puppet and now the bastard is dead and he's going to get exactly what he wanted. He wins. And he knew that all along." He wanted to go back in time and punch his father's fucking face in. 

"I think that's a perfectly reasonable way to feel at this point. It doesn't make you a bad person to hate being manipulated." 

She sounded so calm. It was annoying. He picked up the mug of tea. "You been hanging out with my therapist, wench?" He took a sip. "I hate tea." 

Brienne just laughed at him. He took another sip for lack of something better to do. Another terrible thought hit him, one that he'd chased away the night before with shots of something.

"I'm going to be awful." Off her look, he explained. "I have no idea how to run a company. I majored in history. I know next to nothing about the business. I'm _bad at math,_ for fuck's sake. Tyrion could have done this with one hand tied. He could have been an absolute dragon if my father had been able to see beyond his imagined legacy. Even Cersei probably has a more cutthroat attitude like you'd need to run a huge company. And gods, all those people who work there. Who depend on the company for their livelihoods. Fuck. He wanted me to be his heir, to be just like him, and he fucking got it and I'm going to make a mess and destroy everything he left behind!" 

He could feel the panic starting to spiral. Brienne must have noticed it too, because she leaned over and touched his arm. "Jaime, I think you're missing a rather obvious solution. You have to accept the terms of the will, but once you do, then what? Your father is gone. If he wants you to have the company, then you take it. But then you run it _your way_. Appoint a vice president, or a CEO, someone with the background to handle the running of a corporation. You can be as involved or not as you want."

He turned idea that over. "I could be one of those rich assholes who comes in late, takes a two-hour lunch and then goes golfing all afternoon." 

"There you go. Do you even golf?"

"I'm sure I could learn. It's not like it can be hard if Ned Stark does it."

That got him a brief glare. "I know you hate that you feel forced into this, but you don't have to do it his way forever."

Tywin had wanted Jaime to be him. He had laid Jaime's life out for him as soon as he was born, and Jaime had spent years and years refusing that plan. He had never thought much beyond not doing what Tywin wanted, but Brienne was right. Just because he took this one step didn't mean he had to do everything his father's way. 

He stood up and pulled Brienne to her feet. She looked confused until he put his arms around her and just hugged her. Slowly, her arms wrapped around his back. 

"Thank you," he said again, into her shoulder.

"You're welcome. I'll help you in any way that I can." 

He held on tighter, leaning into her and letting her scent fill his nose, her soft breaths warm against his skin while the rain poured outside. He could have stayed in that moment forever, but unfortunately she had a meeting to get to, and Jaime had a brand new future to negotiate, starting with going home to face his brother.


	9. I'm Pretty Sure It's Only in My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a rough adjustment to life as a civilian and a millionaire and a business mogul all at once, especially with his friends reminding Jaime that he and Brienne still have never talked about their one disastrous date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Everything happens so much" would be a good summary of this, even if Brienne is off on Tarth. Some old friends pop up, though, and the next several chapters are going to be extremely Brienne-centric.

Tyrion spent a good half an hour berating Jaime for being foolish before getting the lecture out of his system. "Don't misunderstand, if ever a situation called for getting absolutely hammered, that was it, but that's not how you go about it!" 

While Tyrion had been at work during the day, Jaime had showered, napped, talked to his aunt and uncle, and tried to come up with a plan for what to do next. Once Tyrion finally stopped growling at him and asked about it, Jaime made his pitch. 

Tyrion's shoulders went down a bit, and he sighed, but then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jaime, but the answer is no. I won't go to work for LE. The thing is… I quite like my job. My book is coming out and I've started the next one, and I get to spend my days in rooms full of people who have to listen to me talk. I even finally got an office with a window!" The joke fell flat between them. Jaime hadn't realized how much he had been counting on Tyrion's help and some of the panic that had subsided in the morning talking to Brienne seeped back into him. 

Tyrion must have noticed because he reached across the couch. "I'm not saying I won't help you. I will, of course I will."

Jaime pulled away from Tyrion's hand. "Right. You'd never _abandon_ me." 

As soon as the words were out, he wanted to yank them back, but it was too late.

Tyrion stared at him. "You… is that what you think this is…?" He groaned and ran his hands through his own curly hair, tugging at it for a minute. "All right, look. Yes, I said that, but I was sixteen. I was being a _melodramatic little shit_ because I was _sixteen_. I know you never actually abandoned me. I was just scared. You were going off to war, you could have been killed!"

"I was going to basic," Jaime said, his heart beating uncomfortably fast. Tyrion's words had been in his head for years, but they have never spoken about this in all that time. "I didn't get anywhere near combat for over a year. And it wasn't just concern for my safety." 

"Well, no, obviously I didn't want to be alone with father. The only mercy was that Cersei was too busy with her boyfriends to bother coming home at all." Tyrion stared at the coffee table for a minute and then turned back to him. "Look, I was afraid, and I was selfish. You were – you are – the only real family I've ever had. I hated being left behind. But I eventually realized it could've been worse. I was glad when father forced you to go to college, because it gave me more time with you. But I think even if our family wasn't-" he gestured vaguely, "our family, if we'd been more like families you see on television who don't plan to literally stab each other in the back and all, I still would've been upset. Because that's part of what growing up is, being sad when your older siblings move out and start their own lives."

That was probably true, but to Jaime it sounded a bit like a rationalization. 

"But this isn't payback, or revenge, or anything like that. I haven't been secretly waiting to betray you all this time."

"When you put it like that, it sounds stupid," Jaime grumbled. 

"Yes it does," Tyrion told him. Jaime rolled his eyes. "But like I said, I will help you however I can. Starting with ordering mass quantities of Pentoshi food for your hangover, and then we'll make a plan." 

*~*~*~*~*

In the weeks following his father's funeral, Jaime felt like his life just became an endless series of meetings, most of them about paperwork. 

Tyrion insisted he hire his own personal attorney to go over the papers about his father's estate, which took a few days. He also had to file for a discharge since he was still technically on medical leave. The Army reacted with its usual sluggishness and it took weeks for that to get sorted out. Adam and Arthur Dayne insisted on holding a retirement party for him, so Jaime at least had one evening with those of his friends who could get to King's Landing in time. He was cautious this time not to overindulge, especially since he was feeling maudlin over leaving his chosen profession behind, even if with his hand he likely would've been strapped to a desk in the Army too. 

Taking over Lannister Enterprises was exactly as terrifying as he'd feared even with his brother's advice and a written plan on his phone. Tyrion's only condition of helping Jaime was that Jaime find himself his own apartment. "It's ludicrous for one of the wealthiest men in Westeros to be living in my guest room."

To Jaime's bitter disappointment, Brienne went back to Tarth just a couple days after the will reading, promising to call and reminding Jaime he could call her whenever he needed to. She needed to be with her father, he knew that, but he wished to all the gods she could have stayed in the city a while longer. Tyrion, for all that Jaime loved him, wasn't nearly as good at comforting Jaime's insecurities as Brienne was. 

They didn't even let Jaime get through his first day as president of Lannister Enterprises before dropping a new bomb in his lap. Frey, the senior vice president, along with Uncle Kevan and the head of accounting, informed their new boss that the company was in financial trouble. The Casterly mines were starting to run out. The gold from the mines had been the lifeblood of the Lannister fortune for centuries, and without the mines, it was unclear what might happen to the company. 

His father had been quietly calling in debts that had been racked up by loaning other businesses Lannister gold. It had been done slowly, to avoid raising suspicions. Jaime shared this alarming information with Tyrion that evening. Tywin had of course been worried about the news getting out and the Lannister reputation being damaged. Jaime was nearly tempted to make it public just for that reason. "The company would fail and I could go on my merry way." 

He wouldn't do it, of course. People's jobs were on the line and it wasn't their fault his father had been, well, his father. 

Tyrion suggested Jaime meet with each department head one on one to get a better idea of what the company was currently doing, so Jaime plunged into more meetings. He spent most of the time soothing anxious souls who were frightened they were being summoned by their new boss to justify their jobs. 

He did make two immediate changes. The first was to tell his Uncle Kevan that he wanted Gregor Clegane fired. Clegane had been the head of LE's security for years and Jaime knew the vile man had done a lot of nasty shit on his father's behalf. Jaime wanted rid of him. Much as he would have liked to just fire the son of a bitch outright, Kevan persuaded him that it was safer to buy Clegane off. Offer him a generous package to retire in exchange for signing a binding non-disclosure agreement. Jaime was reluctant to leave the head of HR alone to do the job, so he summoned Clegane to his office and told him his services were no longer required. 

For a moment he wondered if the giant, lumbering wretch was going to hit him, or worse. Then he just shrugged and signed the paperwork, accepted his check and left the building. 

Through Dayne, he tracked down an old Army buddy, Barristan Selmy, who had retired from active duty and was working personal security in Dragonstone and offered him Clegane's job. He gave the man free reign to purge the security staff of anyone who adhered to Clegane's type of methods. Jaime, at the least, felt less apprehensive about entering the building each day when the hulking figure who used to sit behind the security station was replaced by a few younger, pleasant but effective security officers. 

The other change was not of his own making. His father's personal secretary announced that she was retiring. Jaime wasn't too sorry to see her go. The woman reminded him of Brienne's miserable septa and made him feel like a misbehaving child. He didn't need that piled on top of the rest of his anxiety. 

Someone in human resources sent up a set of resumes for him to choose a replacement. Jaime rifled through them and his eye caught on one that listed "dictation and shorthand" under skills. That could be useful. He had them arrange a meeting the next morning. 

The girl – and she was a girl, she looked barely old enough to be out of college – was nervous in his presence. "Mr. Lannister, ser."

He sighed inwardly. "Mr. Lannister was my father, and I'm not in the Army any longer. You can just call me Jaime, Miss…?"

"Pia, ser. Jaime. Sorry." 

He held out his hand for her to shake and noted her frozen reaction. He assumed it was the missing pinkie finger at first. It still caught him by surprise occasionally. But she shook his hand firmly and sat down, carefully crossing her ankles and putting her hands in her lap and the sight of the bright red chair reminded him this had been his father's office. His father would likely never have bothered to shake the hand of a mere secretary. The poor girl was probably just nervous.

He sat down opposite her and managed to draw a little information about her out. She was brief on details but he had a gut feeling she had been through quite a bit, young as she was. 

Praying his instincts were right, Jaime leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "So, Pia, I imagine you're wondering why I asked to interview you for this position."

"Yes, ser. Jaime. Sorry."

He blew out a breath and jumped in. "I'm dyslexic. It's not a secret, and I'm not ashamed of it." He was proud of how smoothly the lie rolled off his tongue. "However, it's not something I particularly want the entirety of the Commonwealth to know about."

Her forehead, which had been wrinkled most of the time they'd been talking, finally smoothed out. "Of course. I can understand that."

"Given that, it would be helpful to have an assistant who can take dictation if I needed it, and you were one of the only candidates who listed it on your resume."

Pia nodded. "A lot of people don't bother with it these days, because most people rely on apps on the computer to do that for them now, but my Ma- Mother told me to learn just in case."

"I use the apps a lot too, and I'll need you to get comfortable with them, especially for longer documents that I'll need help with. But I think I'm better off with the bases all covered. Do you think you can do that?"

She smiled, displaying slightly crooked teeth. "Yes, ser. Jaime. Sorry." 

"All right then." He stood up and so did she. He thought about not bringing it up, but it seemed like it would be better to be blunt. "There is one other thing. I've dealt with enough gossip in the military to know that if I hire you for this position, over other women who've been with the company longer or have more experience, people are going to talk. They're going to make assumptions about you, and about me." Pia was blinking her big eyes at him but her cheeks flushed as he spoke. She clearly knew what he meant. "I can assure you I will never treat you with anything less than professional respect, but other people may not be so kind. Can you handle that?"

He watched, mildly amused, as her spine straightened a little more. "Mr- Jaime. People have been _making assumptions_ about me since I was a teenager. I can handle some gossiping old crones."

He smiled. He couldn't help it, the girl reminded him of Brienne. "Good." He held out his hand again and they shook on it. 

*~*~*~*~*

In the back of his mind, Jaime continued to curse his father into the lowest of the seven hells not only for the situation, but for how everyone was watching him nervously every second he was in the office because they didn't know how he would react to things. They expected him to be Tywin, and yet when he behaved like a decent human being, they seemed more surprised and uneasy. It was infuriating that, in the end, his father had been right that Jaime would be better positioned to do this job if he had gotten more familiar with the company and its executives over the years instead of staying far away from LE and his father. 

It didn't help that he was still adjusting to civilian life in general. The first day he went to the office just to fill out a bunch of forms, he realized he would have to go there every day, and at that point, he only owned one suit. He stopped on the way home at a menswear store he had heard Cersei mention and discovered that most off the rack suits weren't going to fit him very well due to his height. 

Tyrion and Bronn both rolled their eyes at his annoyance when he got home that night, but Tyrion called his personal tailor, and Jaime spent an uncomfortable hour being measured by the man the next day while the tailor assured him he could have a few full suits ready by the following Monday, for a rush fee, of course.

Brienne was much more sympathetic, having gone through her own struggles with finding clothes that could be tailored to her tall, broad figure. She talked about meeting Margaery and learning more about how to dress in ways that would flatter her body without having to be too uncomfortable, which distracted him for a bit until she said, "Speaking of Margaery, she asked me to ask you if you'd consider wearing some of Loras' designs as part of your new wardrobe."

"Absolutely not," Jaime said immediately.

"Why not?"

"After what he said to you? No way." 

Brienne made a noise into the phone. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do."

She sighed his name. "Jaime, I appreciate it, I really do, but it was a long time ago. You don't need to hold some sort of grudge against someone you don't even know over this."

As far as he was concerned, anyone who had looked sideways at her was his mortal enemy. But Brienne was a better person than he was. "Did he at least apologize? And Renly?"

"Not in so many words. We talked, one night, about college, and they both sort of generally said they were sorry for being immature little shits back then."

Jaime snorted. "Well, that's a start." If it were up to him, both men would grovel at Brienne's feet for forgiveness, but he didn't get to make that choice for her. 

"Anyway, Loras is very talented, and it would help his career if you wore some of his pieces. You should talk to him, at least." 

Jaime reached out to Margaery, who got him her brother's number, and Jaime got to repeat the awkward experience of measuring again. He was so busy trying not to look uncomfortable it took him a while to notice _Loras_ seemed particularly flustered. When he finally made his escape he texted Margaery, wondering if he'd done something to offend the Tyrells.

Margaery called him a few minutes later. "What did my stupid brother do?"

"Nothing! He was just… nervous? He talked a lot, and he was fidgeting." 

Her loud laugh caught him off-guard. "Oh my gods! I didn't even think of it, but Loras had such a crush on you for a while, of course he panicked when he was face to face with you! And he had to get up close and personal too!" 

Jaime paused on the sidewalk. "He has..." he couldn't get the words out. 

Margaery giggled more. "He had, at least. It's your own fault. All the tabloid speculation about you being in the closet has probably given half the gay men in King's Landing false hope." Jaime flushed all the way up to his hair. "I should probably give Loras a hint not to get his hopes up," Margaery continued. "Not that he would cheat on Renly, but still. Speaking of which, are you ever going to ask Brienne on a second date? I know she's back on Tarth but I believe you have your personal jet at your disposal now."

Jamie glanced at his maimed hand automatically. So much had happened since he had arrived at Brienne's apartment that night. "I… there just hasn't been… time." 

She made a dissatisfied noise. "There's never going to be a perfect time, Army. Sometimes you just have to go for it."

They ended the call and he put his phone away, heading back to the garage where he'd left his new car. Unlike clothes shopping, buying the car the previous weekend had been fun, even if Bronn had sniffed dismissively at the luxury SUV Jaime had opted for instead of a flashy sports car. He heard his name and turned, only realizing too late it was a photographer. News about the inheritance had reached the papers and photographers had been lurking outside of Lannister Enterprises' offices trying to catch him coming and going. He had consented to do one interview with a financial newspaper at the urging of the public relations manager, but that wasn't for another week. 

The photographer was snapping pictures and lobbing questions at him, which was causing other people to notice. He saw several cell phones out and pointed in his direction. 

He quickened his pace to the garage and took the stairs, rather than risk getting locked into an elevator, but the photographer was fit enough to sprint up the stairs after him. The questions were getting more personal, the guy trying to get a rise out of him, and somehow another photographer appeared following them up the stairs.

By the time Jaime was safely in his car and thanking the gods for the tinted windows, his hands were shaking. The second photographer was behind his car, blocking him from moving. Jaime gave one short burst of his horn and then hit the gas briefly, enough to make the point. In the moment he didn’t entirely care if he hit this asshole; he had plenty of money to pay for a lawsuit now anyway, right?

He sped out of the garage and made a series of random turns through the streets of King's Landing until he was certain he wasn't being followed, which probably was an overreaction, but he was sweating profusely by then. He saw an empty parking spot on a side street and pulled into it, then just sat there, unable to take his hands off the wheel for several minutes, even to put the car in park. 

*~*~*~*~*

Instead of looking at real estate listings, Jaime spent his free time over the next few days looking for a therapist and arranging an appointment. The feeling of being in a fishbowl and on display had followed him from the encounter with the photographers through the next work day, and Jaime knew he needed help in the event he had a full-blown anxiety attack in the office. That would not help anyone. 

He and Pia were still trying to figure things out, as neither of them had really been in their positions before. She wasn't the most polished assistant but she was smart and observant. She went with him to most of his meetings and took notes, which let him relax a bit about details. He also moved his office out of his father's overly decorated and frankly claustrophobic suite and into a smaller corner office on the main executive level. 

Finally, after a couple of months and several conversations with his new therapist, Jaime was out of excuses when it came to house hunting. Mid-morning he finished going over a stack of financial reports and remembered Tyrion's threats from the night before. He got up and went to the kitchen area and fixed himself a cup of coffee before strolling back to Pia's desk. She side-eyed the coffee. She still felt it was somehow a judgement of her job performance that he occasional fetched his own beverages, despite him pointing out repeatedly that sometimes he needed to escape his office and stretch his legs. 

"Pia, I need a favor. It's a little outside your regular job description, though." There was a momentary wariness in her eyes and Jaime wondered, not for the first time, what kinds of shit her previous bosses had asked her to do. "My brother is threatening to put all my belongings out onto the street if I don't find my own place soon. I need you to pull together some information about realtors in King's Landing for me so I can take it home and show him that I'm working on it." 

Pia had already had the pleasure of meeting Tyrion a few times and she grinned, well aware that the younger Lannister was completely capable of carrying out that threat. "Of course, Jaime. I can have that ready for you by the end of the day. But didn't your father have a house in the city?"

He nodded. "The Mausoleum, we call it. Imagine that office upstairs, but the entire three floors of the house." He grimaced. "Technically I own it but no way in the seven hells am I going to live there." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so you're more in the market for a cool, modern bachelor pad instead?"

He laughed outright. Pia found amusement in checking the tabloid headlines about him just to keep tabs on the latest falsehoods being spun about the new most eligible bachelor in Westeros, according to her. "Honestly I was hoping for a couple of bedrooms and a big screen tv. I hadn't thought much beyond that." Though a building with more security than Bronn was probably a wise idea.

Selmy had been nagging Jaime about bringing on a personal bodyguard for him. The last thing Jaime needed was another person following him around, but he suspected it was only a matter of time. He'd had lunch with Loras and Margaery after picking up his new suits from his studio – which they spent mostly talking about Brienne and Sansa – and the photographs had spurred the tabloids to run crazy stories about how Jaime and Margaery's betrothal was imminent. He was getting better at handling the presence of the photographers, but he definitely needed somewhere to go at the end of the day where he could relax without fear of someone observing him.

He went back to his desk and sat through two more meetings before Pia dropped a salad and a chocolate cookie in front of him for lunch. He was just finishing the cookie when his cell phone rang. 

It was Brienne. He'd tried to call her the night before but she hadn't answered. They usually talked every few nights and he texted her at least once a day. He knew he should leave her in peace, as the both were busy, but he couldn't bring himself to put any more distance between them than the physical separation right now. "Wench! How are you?"

She didn't answer immediately. Jaime checked the phone but the call was still connected. "Brienne?"

He heard a cough then Brienne's voice came through, almost too faint to hear. "Jaime…" 

He leaned forward, dread coiling in his stomach. "Brienne, what's wrong?"


	10. I Call Out Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shocking event may separate Jaime and Brienne forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, y'all! The entire reason I wrote this fic is in these two chapters. I hope it was worth the wait.

The final evening of the vigil, Jaime walked alone down the hill from Evenfall Hall to the town below. The small sept within the Hall was too tiny to accommodate the sheer volume of people coming to pay their respects, so as when Galladon had died, Selwyn's vigil had been in the larger, newer sept in the town. The funeral was tomorrow, and then they would bring Selwyn up the mountain and privately lay him to rest in the crypt alongside his wife, his youngest daughter, and his son. 

Brienne's septa kept calling it the "interment" which made Jaime's skin crawl.

As he got near to town, he saw the pink flowers and other tokens that were being left by people in remembrance of their king. It had started outside the sept in the town and when there was no room left, people began to fill the path up to the ancient hall instead. Jaime had seen video of it on the news. It was Union Day weekend, not much else was going on, so the death of an actual king had earned possibly more news coverage than it might have in a busier time. It was the last thing Brienne needed right now. 

The sept was busy, this being the last opportunity before the funeral for people to visit. Jaime followed the line inside and then stepped into the cordoned off area near the front, reserved for family and close friends. He was not surprised that the altars of both the Father and the Warrior were heavily laden with candles. The Maiden's altar was also overflowing, making his chest tight. The people of Tarth were praying for their new queen as well.

Ned Stark was standing near the front of the room, taking this shift representing the family nearest the coffin. He nodded to Jaime briefly. 

Selwyn was lying in state, the bier under the casket draped in Tarth's ancestral flag. The shuffling visitors were quiet, pausing to pray or light candles. Jaime was struck by the contrast to his father's vigil, just barely two months ago. Then, the family seat had been vacant more often than not. People had come to the sept more to take a last look at the old lion than pay their respects, and Jaime had heard more than one joke about "making sure the son of a bitch was really dead." 

He was as guilty as the rest of them. He had done the proper thing for Tywin but nothing more. He felt more genuine grief for Selwyn Tarth - who he had only ever met once - than he had felt for his own father. 

Tywin Lannister had been respected but mostly feared. Selwyn Tarth had been admired and loved. In life he had not sought power or influence or money. He had ruled his island well, cared for his people and his children and their future to the best of his ability. He had not been a great man, not by Lannister measures, but he had been a good one, and Jaime felt the difference as he never had before. 

Not long after Jaime arrived, he heard murmurs coming from the doorway and people began to move out of the way. He had suspected she would come tonight, which was why he had decided to pay his final respects now. 

Brienne moved slowly through the crowd as people paused to curtsey or bow to her and murmur, "Your Grace." Goodwin was with her, as well as the miserable Roelle, and a formally dressed Tarth household guard walked ahead of her. 

She approached Ned, who embraced her and stepped back. Jaime hovered, leaving her a few minutes to herself, before shifting over to stand next to her. Brienne met his eyes briefly, so Jaime reached out and took her hand for a moment before letting go, cognizant that there were photographers clustered in the doorway (thank the gods the septon had forbidden them to come inside). 

"I imagine you plan to stay here all night," Jaime asked quietly.

"Yes. I need to be here."

"Do you want me to stay?" 

Brienne's shoulders tightened, as they always did whenever someone offered to do something for her. The idea of anyone doing something solely for her comfort or benefit always made her flinch. Jaime had wanted to shake her for this more than once, but this was hardly the time. 

Roelle pursed her lips. "It's hardly appropriate for a man who isn't family to stay by the side of an unmarried girl all night," she whispered. Brienne shrank even more. 

Jaime just caught himself from rolling his eyes. What century was that woman living in?

He ignored the septa and looked at Brienne. "Let me rephrase. Brienne, I would like to stay with you, at least for a while, but if you would rather be alone, I'll go." 

This time their eyes caught. Jaime held still and let her look until she nodded.

He stayed by her side the entire night.

*~*~*~*~*

The day after the funeral, Jaime had to leave Tarth. He didn't want to, but his executives and his uncle were already angry with him for walking away for a week to attend the funeral of a man he barely knew, and Jaime was due to go to Lannisport for a few days to talk to the head of the mining operation about options. Pia, may the gods bless her, had done an admirable job of handling all of his paperwork and she met him in Lannisport with a folder of shit to read and sign that she then scanned and dealt with. 

He called Brienne every evening. She was slowly coming out of her shocked state but she was even busier than he had been over the last couple of months. He was back in King's Landing when she texted that she would be in the city for a few days. She was coming to get the last of her things from her apartment and take care of some business, according to the message.

His stomach dropped. It made perfect sense, he knew that. Her life was now in Tarth, permanently. Why keep any of her things here, in the city, where he would be from now on, when she would only come back to visit once in a while? 

He stared at her message for a long time. He could hear a voice whispering in his head, sounding not unlike Tyrion. _This is your last chance. You don't know when you will see her again. Do you really want her to go without telling her how you feel?_

But could he do that do her now? Brienne had just lost her father, she had just become queen of her island, surely she had enough to deal with without him dumping his feelings on her on top of everything. He wanted to make her life easier, not harder.

His phone chimed again, another message from Brienne. "Meet for lunch tomorrow?"

Whatever he decided to do, he hardly could say no. Hopefully he could fortify himself and tell her the truth before she disappeared back to her island for good. 

*~*~*~*

Brienne suggested he meet her at a café they'd gone to before. It was a distance from Lannister Enterprises, but that lowered the likelihood of photographers following him, which was all to the good. 

She was waiting for him when he arrived, her usual cup of tea steaming in front of her. She asked how he was and he prattled on for a bit about work, about his much-delayed house hunting, and the bodyguard issue which was still unresolved. He talked without thinking, but he was studying her. 

Brienne was nervous about something. She fidgeted with her tea, with the slices of lemon, the spoon, folding and refolding her napkin in her lap, and it was making him even more nervous than he already was. 

"Spill, wench."

She jumped, cementing his concern that she was freaking out. "What?"

"You're anxious as all hells about something, so out with it."

Brienne's shoulders hunched, a clear tell that he was right. "There's just been so much to do. I've had meeting after meeting to prepare for the formal assumption of the throne." Jaime knew that feeling quite well. "There are some, uh, hoops that I need to get through first. That's actually why I'm here in the city." 

"Okay. Can I help?"

She flashed him a grateful, strangely sad look. "I wish you could. I just… I wanted you to hear it from me…" 

She was interrupted by a familiar voice, though it wasn't directed at her. 

"Jaime, thank the gods!" Sansa hurried up to them. "Did you talk her out of it yet? You have to. You cannot be willing to sit back and let Brienne marry Hyle fucking Hunt!"

Jaime's heart stopped. At least that was what it felt like. He turned from Sansa's intrusion to look at Brienne, who was turning red. It was the angry blush, not the embarrassed one, and that he knew Brienne's blushes well enough to know what they meant was almost painful to realize when he'd just learned she intended to marry someone else.

But wait. "Hyle?" he demanded. "What? Seriously? WHY?"

Brienne's glare went from her friend to him. Jaime just blinked at her. She turned back to Sansa. "I hadn't quite gotten to that yet," she said icily.

Sansa ignored the unspoken message and dragged over a chair. "Oh no way am I missing this." 

Jaime just sat, waiting for one of them to start speaking, while he felt his will to live finally giving up. If this was real - and Brienne wasn't a fan of practical jokes so it probably was - the only woman he'd ever really loved was going to marry someone who was not him. Even though he'd spent years telling himself that his feelings probably weren't reciprocated, that she deserved better than wrecked, and now crippled, old man, the fact of it stole his ability to speak.

It would have been miraculous in other circumstances.

Brienne heaved a heavy sigh and folded in on herself. "I don't have a choice. Sansa already knows this. Before I left Tarth the chamberlain of the parliament spoke to me. They've found-"

Sansa interrupted. "Ron fucking Connnington found it," she snarled.

"He found an old law that technically is still in force. An unmarried woman can't be crowned as the ruler of Tarth." 

Well that was truly archaic but it didn't explain getting married to _Hyle fucking Hunt_. "So why don't they change the law then?"

"They will," Brienne's voice was steel for a moment. "But parliament was out of session when my father died. And only the sitting monarch of Tarth can call parliament back into session." 

"Which is absurd," Sansa put in. "I still can't believe there are no contingencies for that."

"I know, and they'll fix that too, but it's the law. To claim the throne of Tarth I have to get married."

"I'll do it," Jaime said instantly. He would worry about the consequences of marrying a woman he was secretly in love with when he had no idea how she felt about him, and the possibility of his beating heart being ripped out of his chest by her rejection, later. "If you need a husband, I can do it. Or Tyrion. Seven hells, _Bronn_. Not Hyle Hunt, Brienne!"

Sansa fixed Brienne with a smirk. "I told you." To Jaime she added, "I suggested Robb, or our cousin Jon, but she said no to them too." 

Brienne looked bleak. "Jaime, I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I can't just marry someone for convenience and annul it immediately afterward. It would look like fraud, that I only married to get my hands on the crown. The succession could be contested in court."

He swallowed the instinctive protest that he would never want it annulled as it dawned on him Brienne clearly would. The second he suggested them getting married she was already talking about finding a way to end such a marriage. 

It hurt. Gods, it fucking hurt and if he was a sane man he would've washed his hands of her right then and there, but he wasn't sane. Also, _Hyle fucking Hunt_.

Jaime seized on the strongest argument he could think of. "Anyone who has met you for two minutes would know that's not true. Also it's your fucking crown, you're the heir." Suspicion bloomed in his gut. "What happens if you aren't able to claim the throne?"

"The next person in line would take it," Sansa said with such venom he knew who that person had to be.

"Connington?" Brienne nodded. "Fuck." Still, maybe if he and Brienne got married for whatever reason, he could find a way to persuade her to keep him? Maybe he might work up the courage to tell her how he felt about her. After a decade or two. "All right, that doesn't change anything. We get married and stay married for as long as we need to." 

"I can't ask that of you, Jaime, or of anyone. If I'm going to be married, I have to try to make it a… a true marriage." Her voice shook.

Jaime exchanged a glance with Sansa, who was glaring at him before turning back to Brienne. "And you think you can make a true marriage with Hyle of all people?" she asked.

Brienne held up a hand. "I know you don't like him, Sansa. I know. I had trouble forgiving him too. But he's been honest with me about everything. He wants the title, yes, and Tarth, but he cares about me. I believe that. He wouldn't have tried to make amends for years if he didn't." 

Jaime wanted to scream and as usual, his anger came out in the worst way. "So you'll settle for that, then? Live out your life with a man who just barely gives a shit about your feelings because you think that's the best you can do?" _Is she that fucking blind? I've been falling at her feet for years and she cares so little for me?_

Brienne shot up from the table so fast her chair flew backwards, her anger nearly scalding him alive. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare make this even harder for me."

Before he could try to apologize or even speak, she snatched up her bag and muttered something to Sansa before stalking away with Goodwin and Pod. Two more men fell into step around her as she departed.

Sansa turned in her chair and unleashed the full force of the icy Tully glare she had inherited from her mother on him. "Nice going, asshole. Do you secretly want her to go marry Hyle? Is that it? Get you out of having to admit the truth about how you feel about her? Is it that embarrassing for a Lannister to be in love with a big, ugly _beast_?"

Now Jaime wanted to leap up from the table. "You heard her," he growled instead. He didn't bother to deny the truth. "She doesn't want me. She didn't even consider it for a second before she dismissed the idea of marrying me out of hand." He hadn't spoken all this time for this exact reason, because the moment when he had to accept that Brienne only saw him as a friend and all the secret dreams and hopes he'd been nursing turned to ash was going to rip him apart. And here he was, his insides shredding themselves, based on the pain in his stomach.

Sansa's voice was more gentle than he expected. "So you are in love with her?" Jaime just nodded, his eyes fixed on Brienne's abandoned cup of tea. "Why in the seven hells haven't you told her, then?"

That was Sansa, still a romantic at heart. "I'm too old for her," he started. "I'm… I've done things, Sansa. I've been through some ugly shit and it's damaged me. And now I'm literally damaged." He waved his right hand with its empty space where his pinkie finger should have been. "She deserves better." 

"You're an idiot. She deserves someone who loves her and wants her, for herself, and isn't manipulating her to get his hands on her crown." 

Jaime understood then. Hyle Hunt wanted not only to marry Brienne but to be crowned king alongside her. Seven fucking hells. "You think he's lying to her?"

Sansa worried her lower lip with her teeth. "I think he cares about her, that's true, but I think it's just like back when they were in high school. He wanted to win that fucking bet and he knew Brienne better than to pretend to be all romantic about it."

"Hyle was part of the bet?" _Gods, wench, are you mad that you'll marry this asshole?_

"You didn't know that? Of course, she's never told you about it, has she," Sansa answered her own question. "I can't give you those details. But he's doing the same thing now. Hyle, I mean. He's not pretending this is some big romance. Brienne keeps talking about her duty to Tarth, and how Hyle is her best chance at some sort of real relationship. He's preying on her."

"That doesn't sound like Brienne." In his mind he always pictured Brienne as she looked with a sword in her hand, ferocious and unstoppable. 

Sansa grimaced. "It does, when it comes to men and relationships. In everything else she's a warrior woman, but people have been shitting on her over her looks her whole life," she added with a pointed look at him. "She has zero self-confidence. She's basically only had one actual boyfriend and that only lasted a few weeks and he was, well, clear that he was just interested in a physical relationship and nothing else." Jaime's stomach tightened for a different reason, but Sansa kept talking. "Every other guy has either been messing with her or only interested in her money and her title. So here comes this guy, who seems like he's being honest about everything, she gives him more credence than she should. And he knows it. Hyle's manipulating her, I'm sure of it." 

"Can we prove that? Maybe we can convince her to change her mind."

Sansa gazed off into the distance. "Maybe. I need to make a couple of calls." She rose and then paused, her glare returning. "But all of this would be solved if you would just man the hells up and tell her the truth."

She swept away, already looking at her phone, before Jaime could ask why Sansa was so sure it would make a difference or if she knew anything about Brienne's feelings for him. That was probably for the best. Sansa was his friend but her first loyalty was to Brienne. She wouldn't tell him anything Brienne had said in confidence. Still, if Brienne was about to make the worst mistake of her life, possibly Sansa would at least give him a hint that his feelings might be returned, or that there was hope of that someday? 

_Focus, Lannister._ One problem at a time.

*~*~*~*~*

Jaime was supposed to have a meeting after he got back from his lunch, but he emailed and canceled it saying something had come up, which was not a lie. He just couldn't face going into the office and trying to concentrate on business decisions while Brienne was planning to throw her entire future away on a guy named Hyle.

His brother called him while Jaime was driving aimlessly around the city. "Can you come give me a ride home? Bronn had a mysterious errand to go run."

Jaime drove to campus and picked Tyrion up. He took one look at Jaime's face and said, "Who else died?"

"Brienne's getting married."

Tyrion replicated Jaime's deer-in-headlights reaction quite well. "And not to you, I take it," he said after a minute.

Jaime poured out the story as they were making their way through the winter rain, which was snarling traffic all over the city. 

Tyrion folded his hands in his lap, which was what he always did when thinking. Jaime was hoping his brother could come up with some scheme to end the engagement. Tyrion had inherited their father's skills at intrigue, after all. 

All he said, though, was, "Shit, we can't let her go through with this."

"I know. I said so. Sansa said so. She's not listening to us." 

"Which begs the question why is she listening to this cretin? Well, I suppose that is probably related to why Bronn had to take off so quickly." He tapped his fingers. "I wonder if Sansa might bring her parents into this? With Selwyn gone, Brienne might listen to Ned, and she's always been close to Catelyn."

That was better than any idea Jaime had had so far. He reached for his phone to call Ned but it rang before he could dial. "Sansa?"

"Jaime, it's Margaery. Brienne is getting married right now!"

He nearly dropped the phone. "WHAT?"

"Sansa called me and we're at the apartment and it looks like Brienne got dressed in a hurry. There's a note saying she and Hyle were going to take care of the ceremony _today_ so they could have a couple days before going back to Tarth."

Jaime pulled the car over and covered his face with his hand. "It's happening. Right now," he told Tyrion.

His brother let out a stream of curses and grabbed for his own phone. "There are dozens of septs in King's Landing. Baelor is too crowded and busy, but they could be at any one of about fifty places."

Into the phone, Jaime said, "I don't suppose the note includes which sept they were going to."

"Nope. This isn't like her, Jaime. Something about this is sketchy as hells." 

His head thudded back against the seat. "I can't let her do this." He was terrified and angry but he couldn't just sit idly by while Brienne married someone who didn't love her because she thought she couldn't do better. And there was at least one other person he hoped felt the same way and who would know where she was.

"Jaime?"

"I'll call you back." He ended the call with Margaery and hit another contact on his phone. "It's Jaime. Where are they?"

A minute later he hung up that call and tossed Tyrion his phone while putting the car into drive and forcing his way back into traffic. "Call Sansa's number, tell them to meet us." 

Tyrion sighed. "Well, let's go stop a royal wedding."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I wrote this chapter eons ago, so even though the publishing order is reversed, this is actually not an homage to Tyrion in "The Evenstar Job" saying "Let's go steal a historic landmark!"


	11. It feels like a song I know so well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Jaime stop Brienne from making a terrible mistake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, tens of thousands of words later, at the scene that was the reason for the entire story.

Jaime burst through the doors and hurried to the front of the sept, leaving Tyrion to catch up. Brienne was there with Hyle and her horrid septa, while Goodwin and Pod stood a few steps back. 

Pod gave Jaime a small nod and let him approach. 

Brienne was in a gray dress that looked awful on her, emphasizing all the wrong things about her body. Jaime knew immediately that Roelle had picked it out. Brienne was staring at him with a mix of anger and trepidation as he strode up the aisle toward the wedding party. There was no ribbon around her hand yet, so hopefully he wasn't too late.

The building was otherwise empty, and this particular sept was in an out of the way corner near the market district. It was old but not especially well-kept or historic. It was dark and cold and echoing with the lack of people and Jaime wanted to shake Brienne. _Is this how you wanted your wedding, wench? No friends, no family, running away in secret?_

The septon was a wrinkled, elderly man, confused by the interruption. Jaime reached for calm. "I'm here to object." 

"Oh dear, we're past that part already," the septon mumbled, thumbing through the book he was holding. 

"What do you want?" Hyle said, holding tightly to Brienne's hands.

Jaime ignored him and looked at Brienne. "Marry me, instead of him." 

She sighed. "Jaime, I know you mean well, and I'm… I'm grateful that you… you have no idea… but I can't let you do that. I can't let you sacrifice yourself for my sake."

The doors opened again and Sansa and Margaery raced into the sept joining Tyrion, Pod, and Goodwin. 

This wasn't what he wanted, saying this in front of all of these people, but it was now or never. Jaime screwed his courage to the sticking place. 

"Marrying the woman I've been in love with for years would hardly be a sacrifice, Brienne."

There was total silence for a moment. Someone muttered "finally" - he was pretty sure it was Margaery - but Jaime only had eyes for Brienne.

He could see the different emotions flashing across her face, hope and fear mixed together, and her eyes glistened. He'd made her cry. 

"Jaime, don't jape about this." She was half-angry, half-begging. Sansa's words earlier, about how Brienne had been treated by men over her looks, came back to him. 

Jaime took a step toward her. "I have never been more serious about anything in my life," he told her. "Joining the Army was a close second," he added, staring into her eyes. _You know me. You know what that means. Don't do this. Let me help you._

"What are you up to, Lannister?" Roelle interrupted. 

"What, was your daddy's company and his castle not enough for you, you want her island too?" Hyle demanded. He looked at Brienne. "You can't believe this, Brie. Come on. Jaime Lannister? He just inherited how many millions? Most eligible bachelor in Westeros? You really think you can be happy with him?"

"You seriously think you can make her happy?" Jaime challenged Hyle.

"I'm not the one selling her a bunch of bullshit about secretly being in love with her," Hyle threw back. "I've been honest from the beginning."

"Except that you bet on taking her virginity, you fucking scumbag!" Margaery hissed at him. Jaime reeled for a moment before tucking that bit of information away to be dealt with later.

"We were in high school, for the gods sake! I did a stupid teenage thing. It was years ago. I apologized for it over and over. Brienne knows me now." He moved closer to Brienne. "You and I are a good match. We're friends. We understand who we are, right? You really think this guy understands you like I do?"

"I know her better than you ever will," Jaime snapped, though deep down he wondered about that. Was it possible Hyle was right? He had given Brienne so much and she so rarely talked about herself, maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did? Not if she was willing to marry this jerk. 

Hyle looked scornful. "Yeah, right. You want to, what, rescue the damsel in distress? Like Brie needs you to save her? You think you can swoop in and give her pretty speeches and promise you love her, not her money or her title, get her to fall for you and give you everything, right? Then what?" He turned from Jaime to Brienne again. "What happens in a couple years when he wakes up and takes a good look at you?" Hyle said. Brienne flinched. "When he realizes what he's signed up for? How long do you think it'll take before he's screwing around behind your back?"

Jaime growled at Hyle but Tyrion put a hand on his arm. "My brother isn't the cheating type, but he would annul the marriage if he or Brienne became unhappy." Jaime transferred his glare to Tyrion but his brother ignored him and kept staring at the would-be groom. "You, Hyle, certainly won't do that, will you? You'll force Brienne to stay with you no matter what, because letting the marriage end would mean you'd lose your claim to her island." 

Brienne stiffened and she looked at Hyle as if seeing him for the first time. Jaime realized this was an aspect of marrying him she hadn't really considered before. Not that he blamed her, given everything going on, but Tyrion was harder to fool.

"It's hardly appropriate to be talking about this in the middle of a wedding," Roelle scolded them. "And royalty don't end their marriages, not on Tarth. We respect the Faith, unlike others."

"All the more reason for Brienne to be absolutely certain that the person she marries is someone she can trust," Tyrion retorted. 

"Her duty to Tarth is more important than personal feelings," Roelle said. "The princess must put her people before herself."

"Or she could do her duty and not bind herself to being miserable for the rest of her life at the same time by marrying Jaime, or basically anyone else on offer. Why are you so hells bent on her marrying Hyle right this minute?" Margaery asked Roelle. 

"Probably cause he's paying her." Bronn appeared from the shadows, ambling into the sept with Arya Stark, of all people. 

Roelle started to deny it but Hyle went pale.

"We paid a visit to her hotel room," Arya said, her voice pure rage. "Hyle's been paying Roelle to convince Brienne to marry him."

"I would never!" Roelle screeched while Brienne jerked away from Hyle, staring at him in horror.

Bronn pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Tyrion. "Idiot paid her with a check. Paper trail." His contempt was limitless. "Fucking amateurs." 

"You did it again, didn't you," Brienne said to Hyle. "I can't believe I was this stupid, that I let you do this to me again." She was trembling and Jaime reached for her, deeply relieved when she took hold of his hand in an iron grip. 

Hyle held up his hands. "Hey, I never lied to you, Brie. I was up front about what I wanted and why. Can you blame me for wanting to have someone else on my side?"

"Yes," Sansa and Margaery said in unison. 

"It's not like the old bat didn't agree with me," Hyle continued. "She was on board with it all, I just wanted some insurance."

"Of course," Tyrion said, tilting his head to the side as if contemplating a complex translation. "When Selwyn died, Roelle was in danger of losing her position running the household. Any sane man who married Brienne would boot the old hag out in five minutes or less."

Roelle actually took a step toward Tyrion, making Bronn shift in between them. "How dare you!"

Brienne faced her old septa, her hands clenched into fists. "Why. Just tell me why." 

Roelle's face, already not a pleasant sight, twisted as she aimed all her anger at Brienne. "LOOK AT YOU! You're a disgrace! Princesses are supposed to be pretty. They're supposed to be feminine and clever and everything an ideal woman should be! Instead you're this great ugly, hulking monster!" Jaime wrapped his other hand around Brienne's as well, seeing how every word out of the old bitch's mouth was hitting her like a dagger. "Little girls should look up to you and look to you as a role model. What girl would look at you and want to be like you?"

"Me, for a start," Arya put in. 

Roelle ignored her. "I was so honored when I was chosen to raise the heirs to Tarth. I was happy that I would get to serve the role a septa should have by right, teaching girls to raise the next generation properly. And instead I got saddled with you! A failure as a woman and a princess, no matter how hard I tried."

"Enough." Jaime stepped in front of Brienne. He had always thought he would never hit a woman, much less an elderly one, but Roelle was sorely testing his restraint. "The only failure here is you. You're the one too blinded by your own prejudices to see the truth. Brienne is honorable and brave and smart and absolutely, stunningly beautiful," he felt Brienne's fingers try to withdraw from his grasp but he tightened his grip, "to anyone with the eyes to see her for who she really is. The people of Tarth are going to remember her name long after you're gone because she is exactly the right person to be their queen. You didn't deserve your position. You don't deserve to know her and you will never speak to her like that again." 

"I don't answer to the likes of you," Roelle said but she was interrupted by the septon.

"No, you answer to the Faith, sister. May I see that check?" The elderly man looked at the check Bronn held out to him and nodded decisively. "I'll be speaking to the High Septon first thing in the morning. Septa Roelle will be expelled from the Faith. Taking payment to influence the life of the person she swore to the gods to care for is a profound violation of everything the Faith stands for." 

"You can't do that!"

"I'm pretty sure he can," Sansa observed.

Brienne stepped around Jaime, though she didn't let go of the hand he was still holding. "You'll need to find new employment, Roelle, and I hope you enjoy King's Landing, because you'll never be welcome back in Tarth. I'm done letting you hurt me and my family. Your belongings will be sent to you but you are never setting foot on my island again."

"She definitely can do that," Tyrion said wryly.

Roelle gave all of them one last, disgusted glare and stomped away. 

Jaime aimed a glare at Hyle. "You should get out of here while you're still able to walk." The other man puffed up like he was thinking of taking on Jaime, but he glanced around and noticed that Arya and Bronn were also looking like they would welcome a fight, sept or not, and he stepped backwards. 

"You're going to regret not sticking with me, Brie, especially if you think you've got a future with him." 

Jaime would gladly have delivered another speech but Arya interposed herself between Hyle and the rest of them. "You keep telling yourself that, asshole, while you die miserable and alone." 

Hyle slunk out of the sept, Arya following to ensure he really left. Bronn conferred with the septon while Jaime turned his attention to Brienne. 

She was flushed, and her eyes were red. He gave in to impulse and put his palm against her cheek. He knew what it was to stand up to someone who had been dragging you down your whole life. It was freeing but exhausting, and Brienne looked about ready to drop. "You did the right thing." 

Margaery approached them both, grinning. "So, since there's another marriage proposal on the table here, are we going to witness a wedding after all?" 

As much as Jaime would have liked to resolve the situation, Brienne wasn't in the right frame of mind to make this decision now. "When do you have to be back on Tarth?"

"Monday morning."

"Well, we have three days, then. And we really need to talk, Brienne."

She nodded wearily and let him lead her out of the dark interior of the sept. 

*~*~*~*~*

Outside, Jaime handed the keys to his car to Sansa, who had arrived with Margaery by taxi. "Under no circumstances is your sister to drive my brand new car." 

Arya rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you just inherited how much money? You can buy another one."

Sansa and Margaery hugged Brienne, whispering advice in her ear before the three girls went off to Jaime's car. Tyrion muttered "good luck" at Jaime and headed off with Bronn in another direction. Jaime followed Brienne, flanked by Goodwin and Pod (who were both looking more cheerful), and they went back to her apartment. 

Once they were inside, Jaime stood near the door, fidgeting, unsure of where to begin now that they were alone and his feelings were finally out in the open. "Um, tea? I could make you some?"

Brienne agreed and Jaime busied himself in the kitchen, feeling a bit like he was auditioning. _See, I can be a good husband. I can make tea at least._

When he returned to the living room, Brienne had changed from the ugly gray dress into a pair of leggings and one of her oversized sweaters. She was staring out the window, where the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds as it set, but she didn't look peaceful. Her posture was stiff and she had one arm folded over herself. Her other hand was clenched in a fist against her chin.

"You look like you want to hit something," Jamie blurted out. "I can guess who. Hopefully."

Brienne sighed. "Myself, mostly." When he tried to protest, she shook her head, turning and leaning against the windowsill. "No, Jaime. I shouldn't have fallen for this again. It was stupid."

He thought back to what she had said in the sept. "Because of the bet?" He sat down on the couch. "I think it's time you told me about that." 

She crossed one leg over another. He didn't need to be a trained therapist to see her walls going up. "You already know the basics."

"But not from you," he pointed out. "Margaery and Sansa let it slip to me before, but you haven't actually said a thing." Brienne didn't answer, just stared at her feet. "After everything I've told you," he began, unable to keep the hurt from his voice, "things I've never told anyone other than my doctor, do you really think I'm going to judge you? Do you still not trust me?"

Brienne startled. "No, Jaime, it's not that. I trust you. It's just… it's hard to talk about."

He merely looked at her. _Harder than admitting you were fucking your own sister for years?_ he thought but didn't say aloud. 

Brienne seemed to guess what he was thinking. She scowled a bit but picked up the cup of tea and sat down next to him. "It was the end of my senior year of high school. My dad," her voice caught and she sipped the scalding hot tea and hissed. "My dad insisted Gal and I go to the public schools on Tarth instead of shipping us to some fancy prep school on the mainland. He thought it was important that we support the school system on the island."

"You didn't miss anything," Jaime observed, thinking back to the string of elite, miserable schools Tywin had sent his children to. 

"It was always going to be awkward, being the daughter of the king. Galladon had an easier time, he was more outgoing than me, and he didn't… he wasn't a complete freak looking like this." She clearly saw that he was about to object to that description but she shook her head. "I was taller than the tallest boys. Taller than a lot of the teachers. Even when my braces came off, I just…" She looked down at her lap. "I didn't know, then, how to dress. I just knew when I tried to dress like the other girls it seemed even worse, so I gave up. I wore Gal's old clothes and just kept to myself, except for sports."

That sounded horribly lonely, which Jaime could relate to, but he kept quiet. 

"It was nearly the end of the year and I already knew I was going to Stormlands. A bunch of boys in my class started being too nice to me. Leaving notes, complimenting me on things. I knew something was off. Boys didn't talk to me like that. I assumed it was a joke of some kind. Pretty much anyone trying to talk to me, I assumed they were doing it for a bad reason unless it was obvious why." 

_That explains a lot,_ he thought.

"Hyle was different. He didn't pretend to like me romantically or anything. We had a couple classes together so he'd talk about something that happened in class, or ask about a movie or a tv show or something like that. I thought maybe he wanted to be friends. I even thought that maybe I'd been wrong, maybe not everyone was laughing at me all the time behind my back.

"There was this big graduation party every year for the seniors. Hyle asked me to go with him. He even said we could go just as friends, not like a date. I wanted to get to do one regular high school thing, you know?" There was a pleading note in her voice that he didn't like. "But the last day of classes this girl Jeyne cornered me. She was the head cheerleader and the most popular girl in school. She'd been pretty awful to me when we were younger, but that day she followed me into the bathroom. I thought she was going to start picking on me again, but she told me her boyfriend had told her there was a bet."

Jaime had a sudden vision of a gangly, teenaged version of Brienne, not all that different from how she had been when he met her, being accosted in a bathroom by a girl who resembled Cersei, only with better intentions than his sister had ever possessed.

"Apparently it started out as just a bet on getting me to go on a date, but more boys heard about it and it got bigger, until it was about taking… taking my virginity." Her face had flushed crimson and she avoided looking at him again. "Obviously everyone was sure I was still a virgin, looking like I did. And with the school year almost over, they were getting desperate. Jeyne said her boyfriend said he heard a rumor one of the boys involved was trying to get his hands on some GHB."

He was already pissed, but that made a wave of fury roll through him. "The date rape drug? Seven fucking hells. I hope someone caught them."

She put the cup down and folded her arms across her stomach. "Not that I know of. Jeyne warned all the girls in our class to avoid drinking anything at the party, so nothing happened to anyone as far as I know."

"What did you do?"

She shrugged. "Nothing." 

He waited a beat. That didn't make sense. Brienne had kicked his ass on more than one occasion just for saying stupid shit to her. 

She must have sensed his disbelief. "The night of the party I texted Hyle that I had a bad headache and told my father the same thing. I went to bed early. Classes were over. I ignored them all during graduation and that was it." 

"You…" Jaime started and then edited what he'd been about to say, because it sounded like he was blaming her. "They just got away with it?"

She jumped up. "What was I supposed to do? I had no proof. Even if I had, school was over. There was no way for them to be punished for being assholes." 

His inner Lannister was already plotting various types of revenge. "If they were buying drugs to spike your drink, that's a crime, Brienne!"

"It was a rumor. I couldn't prove anything. Besides, nobody got hurt."

Jaime leapt to his feet too. " _You_ got hurt! Even if nobody was able to spike your drink, they still made the fucking bet about you in the first place! Don't act like that isn't important, that you don't matter!"

Brienne stared at him, her eyes wide, her chin wobbling like it always did when she was trying to suppress her feelings. 

He rubbed his palm over his beard. "How the fuck did Hunt convince you to forgive him for this?"

"I ran into Hyle after I moved to King's Landing. He asked me to meet him for coffee and he confessed to me about the bet. He didn't know that I already knew. I'd never told anyone. Galladon would've reacted the same way you are, probably." Her face turned sad. "Hyle told me the truth and he said that he felt terrible about having been a part of it. He swore he wouldn't have hurt me or tried anything, that he realized he really did want to be friends with me. I thought he was sincere, at the time. Maybe he was, I don't know."

At this point Jaime didn't know either. Perhaps back when their paths had first crossed, Hunt had just been trying to rectify something shitty he'd done in high school without intending to gain anything else from it. But his attempt to get Brienne to marry him suggested his motives had never been pure. 

Not that Jaime's motives were entirely pure either, even if it wasn't her crown he was interested in. 

"Hyle was in Evenfall after the funeral, when Ron brought up the marriage law. Ron was the one who orchestrated the bet, so maybe he knew I would've abdicated rather than marry _him_ and he told Hyle about the legal requirement." Jaime made a mental note to find an excuse to punch Connington the first chance he got. 

Brienne dragged a hand roughly through her hair. "He made it sound so sensible. We'd known each other for a long time, we could take as long as we needed to get to know each other, but there were no illusions that it was some grand romance." She looked disgusted with herself. "I didn't even think to ask him about annulments until Tyrion brought it up today." 

"You're grieving," Jaime reminded her. "You're not thinking clearly. He took advantage of that. The bastard was manipulating not just you but people around you. Do not even consider giving him some sort of benefit of the doubt." 

"I'm not. I'm just angry with myself for going along with it. But Roelle was saying the same things." 

More than a decade of therapy warned Jaime that the damage done by Roelle was even deeper than the scars Brienne carried from the bet. It was more than could be dealt with today, and probably more than could be dealt with without professional help. Which meant he wasn't going to encourage opening that can of worms right now. "Roelle is going to face the consequences of her actions, at least. Hunt is out of the picture for good. And my brother was right. I would never force you to stay married. Even if-" he had to clear his throat. "If we just get married in order to secure your throne and wait a while and have it annulled after enough time has passed, we can do that if it's what you want."

Brienne's eyes focused on his face for the first time since they got to the apartment, but her voice broke. "That's not what you want though, is it?" 

"No." He'd already told her the truth, so there was no point in pretending now, but that didn't stop his hands from trembling. "I meant it. I want to marry you for real. One heart, one soul, forever, all of it. Children, a family of our own, if you want it, someday." 

She took a deep breath. "How long?"

"What?"

"You said, in the sept, you said it had been years. How long have you felt…?"

"I don't know exactly." He'd asked her to bare part of her soul, he supposed it was only fair to return the favor. "I knew I was attracted to you the first time you kicked my ass. But I was stationed on another continent, and with the age difference, and everything else, it seemed pointless. But every time I came back here I wanted to see you again." He thought back, one particular moment surfacing above the others. "The day of Galladon's funeral, I knew this was different. You were different. I didn't want to leave you." 

"All this time?" 

He nodded. "It can't have been that much of a shock." Jaime frowned at her silence. "Tyrion, Sansa, even Margaery knew how I felt. Hell, Pod knew. I didn't do a very good job of hiding it, even if it did take me forever to ask you out."

Brienne went stiff. "On a pity date."

"What? It wasn't a pity date!"

"You only asked me out after you found out about the dinner with-" she stopped short of saying Hyle's name. "You never even called it a date, and you never brought it up again. You were just feeling sorry for me."

"No, Brienne, that's not true. I was planning to come to King's Landing to see you, remember? I asked to see you before I even knew about dinner with Hyle the Cunt." 

"Oh. I thought you were just trying to make me feel better."

"No. I mean, yes, I was doing that too, but I meant to tell you how I felt. Or some of it, at least. Why did you agree to go out with me if you thought I was just taking pity on you?"

"I was going to tell you I was leaving for Tarth that night, and thank you for looking out for me. Goodwin wasn't happy about staying away, but I thought it was my last chance to just… be _Brienne_ and not the heir to the throne." Jaime had never been sure why she agreed to that request, but he could understand the desire for some normalcy. She swallowed and looked away from him. "I thought I could pretend it was all real, just for one night. Of course it ended in disaster." 

She was still blaming herself. "Is that why you never brought it up again?"

She nodded. "I was embarrassed. And then your father died, and with everything else, there just wasn't time." She turned suspicious again. "Of course you never mentioned it either, even though you say you've felt… that way for so long."

He snorted. "You do remember what I told you in the hospital, right? I spent so long trying to figure out how to tell you about that and you found out in the worst way. What was I supposed to say? Hey, I know our one and only date got ruined by a gang of thugs and you spent the whole night in the hospital and found out my father and sister are abusive assholes, and I was in an incestuous relationship with my sister for years." The volume of his voice rose and he couldn't stop it. "On top of all that and being stationed so far away and the age gap and my reputation as a murderer and the PTSD, I'm now permanently maimed. Do you still want to date me?" 

Fuck. He hadn't meant to lay bare all of his insecurities like that, not when Brienne was already dealing with so much today. He started to turn away, wondering if he should just leave. He could almost hear Cersei sneering, _Yes, crawl away, like a beaten dog._

Brienne touched his arm, stopping him, and her hand slid down and wrapped around his damaged one. 

"Jaime." She was pale, now, and blinking at him in shock. "I didn't realize- I don't care about any of that. I mean, I care, obviously, because I hate that you've been hurt. But none of that matters to me."

He knew that was true, because Brienne was the best person he'd ever known. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "When we first met, I wasn't in a good place. I didn't really realize how detached I was from everything. I had separated myself from Cersei, from my father. I had the job I had wanted but the thing with Aerys, it hurt my career. The rumors poisoned everything. The only person I had was Tyrion and I only saw him once a year at most. I was just… drifting. Letting things happen. Then I met you." He looked up and once he met Brienne's eyes, he couldn't look away. 

"You made me feel something good, for the first time in a long time. When you charged at Bolton to protect Sansa, I was scared out of my mind and just in awe of you at the same time. You reminded me of who I used to want to be. I kept finding excuses to come to King's Landing, to see you, to talk to you. I tried to tell myself it was just friendship, but it's more than that. It's always been more than that." 

"That's what I thought, that we were just friends" she admitted, looking down at their joined hands. "I told myself you were just looking out for me because you felt responsible, after Galladon. You were always so far out of my league, I never let myself think…" He watched, afraid to push any harder, as she swallowed heavily. "I saw your sister at your father's funeral." The last person Jaime wanted to talk about right now was Cersei, but Brienne continued before he could change the subject. "She said… she said I was in love with you."

His ability to speak vanished for the second time that day. 

"Sansa and Margaery have been teasing me about having a crush on you for years. But they're my friends. They wouldn't think it was ludicrous. They're biased, they would think 'of course a ridiculously handsome and rich man would be thrilled if Brienne liked him' no matter what the reality was." He couldn't even process the compliment she was giving him, waiting for the other shoe to fall. "But Cersei hates me. If she could have dismissed me in any way, she would have. Instead she went on about how you belonged to her, and how you could never possibly think of someone like me that way."

"She's wrong," he said, a chill running up his spine as it always did when Cersei tried to assert ownership of him. "She's wrong about a lot of things, especially that last part." He wondered when exactly the conversation had taken place. "I'm surprised you didn't knock her lights out."

"I was tempted," Brienne said, only half-joking. "Didn't want to make a scene at a funeral."

"I can just imagine the headlines," he replied, absently. "Why are we talking about my sister again?" 

Brienne straightened her spine, her thumb rubbing over his skin, not looking at him. "I told myself it was a crush. For a long time. That it was like what happened with Renly. I dated other men, or, well, I tried, but it never felt the same as when I was with you. When you put yourself in between me and the Bloody Mummers, you told them not to touch me, I was ready to murder them all if they hurt you. In the ambulance I was holding your other hand and you kept opening your eyes and looking for me and I had no idea what might happen. I thought I might lose you and it was… it was just as bad as Gal, or my father." Finally her eyes met his. "I couldn't bear the thought of a world without you in it."

He pressed his forehead against hers, his free hand cupping her cheek. "Brienne, _please_."

It came out in a choked whisper. "I love you, Jaime." 

He leaned up and kissed her, unable to wait any longer. It was not an elegant kiss; their lips mashed together, not lined up very well, and his hand threaded through her hair and got caught. After a minute, though, they were moving more certainly, Brienne's hand wrapped around his wrist. He wasn't sure which of them was shaking more. 

He lost track of time for a bit as they sank onto the couch, kissing and touching and whispering the words to each other again and again. He was having trouble believing it was real. After loving Brienne so long, never entirely sure what she thought of him, to hear her say the words left him dizzy with relief and want. 

_She loves me. She's loved me for years._

Brienne eventually drew away, a frown forming on her face. 

"What's wrong?"

"Jaime, what do we do now? You just inherited a multi-million dollar company. Your life is here, and I have to go back to Tarth. I won't be able to leave, not any time soon, and even then not for more than some short trips." 

He wanted to say "I don't care" or "fuck the company" but that was a knee-jerk reaction. _I won't let her go. Not now._ He tried to clear his mind of the buzz from kissing her and focus on practicalities. "I'm not sure. I never got much past the confession stage when I thought about the future. I was too sure you'd gently tell me I was much too old and weathered for you, that you only cared about me as a friend." She blushed, bright pink, and he couldn't resist leaning over to kiss her flushed cheek, something he'd been longing to do for years. 

Then he made himself lean back. "First things first, are you accepting my proposal of marriage?"

She turned even pinker. "I am."

His chest puffed out a bit, he couldn't help it. "All right. We take care of the wedding and secure your throne. Do whatever needs to be done so that there's no question that you're the rightful queen of Tarth. Once that's sorted, we start working on everything else. One problem at a time."


	12. Oh this is love like wildness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice long, juicy chapter for you as it may be a bit before I get the final few chapters up.

The following morning, everyone gathered at Brienne and Sansa's apartment. Sansa's parents were in the city and they arrived with a massive quantity of breakfast pastries and a bucket of coffee and they all settled in to plan. 

The wedding was to be in two days, Sunday afternoon. The newlyweds would fly back to Tarth on Monday morning, as Brienne had to meet with the leaders of the government to officially claim her crown that day. Brienne reached for her computer to start looking at plane reservations, but Jaime put his hand over hers. "You remember I have a private jet now, right?" 

"You'll need to book a hotel room for Sunday night. I doubt very much you want to spend your wedding night in my guest room," Tyrion said. 

"And you're not coming back here," Sansa added, grinning. "I've already seen as much of Jaime naked as I can handle in this lifetime."

"What?!?" Ned barked. 

Sansa slapped her hand over her eyes and muttered, "Damn it." 

"I'll handle the accommodations. We'll need to find a sept and speak to a septon," Tyrion smoothly redirected the conversation. 

Cat and Ned were tasked with finding a sept somewhere in the city, one that was not the gloomy edifice from the day before. Jaime's Uncle Kevan, who was lingering to the side of the kitchen, said he would handle getting the marriage license. 

Jaime was responsible for finding wedding rings. He had a navy blue suit he could wear for the ceremony, one of the formal suits he'd gotten from Loras. 

The subject of Brienne's wedding dress came up. Margaery and Sansa shared a brief look and the former said, "We can deal with that later today. Meanwhile, Brie, I'm assuming your skipping the cloaking?"

"Oh, I actually, I brought…" Brienne got up and went to her room and returned with a flat white box. She opened it and carefully lifted a folded cloak that looked like it dated from the heroic era. It was in Tarth's colors and Jaime realized as the fabric opened it was covered in jewels and embroidery that were likely hand-stitched. It was probably worth as much as the apartment they were sitting in.

Sansa, Margaery and Cat all gathered around to look, and even Arya looked impressed. Tyrion was enraptured, given the age of the garment, begging Brienne to have photos taken of it while she was wearing it. 

Something occurred to Jaime. He kept his voice low, for Brienne's ears only. "You didn't have that with you yesterday?"

Her face turned a bright pink and she shook her head. 

Jaime felt like one of the suns embroidered on the cloak was bursting out of his chest. Brienne had brought her ancestral cloak with her to King's Landing knowing she was going to have to marry here, but she hadn't brought it to the sept to marry Hyle. She did want to wear it to marry him, though. 

She was biting her lip and he had to control the urge to lean forward and replace her teeth with his. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles gently. 

The gesture startled the room a little, but Jaime refused to feel awkward about showing affection for his betrothed. Even if he was grinning like an idiot. 

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "This means we'll need a Lannister cloak. I'm assuming you'd rather not ask our sweet sister for hers."

Absolutely not. Jaime had no intention of Cersei finding out about the wedding until after it was safely over. "Genna's in Lannisport. I was going to call her and ask her to come. She could probably get her hands on one of the family cloaks from Casterly Rock." 

After sorting out a few more minor details, Tyrion nodded. "That's the ceremony mostly done, now we have to figure out the reception."

Jaime felt a hint of trepidation in his stomach. His brother's idea of what was appropriate for this situation was probably not going to match up to Jaime's, or Brienne's. "Tyrion."

But his little brother held up a hand. "No need to fret, Jaime, I'm aware this is your wedding, not mine. But there still needs to be some sort of feast. It wouldn't do to not feed your guests." 

"Even with such a small group, it's going to be difficult to locate a restaurant that can accommodate the party on this notice," Kevan said. "To say nothing of keeping it out of the press." 

"What about the Mausoleum?" Tyrion asked. That caused everyone in the room to go silent.

"Please tell me that's not literal," Margaery eventually said. 

"It's our nickname for father's house here in the city. Which is legally now Jaime's house, though he refuses to live there."

"Would you?" Jaime shot back.

"Hells no." 

"It would be the most private option," Kevan observed. "Certainly better than any restaurant or other public location."

That seemed to settle that. Tyrion was put in charge of arranging the food and drink and everyone else scattered to start making phone calls. Jaime called Aunt Genna first. As soon as he named his betrothed, he heard an almost girlish shriek over the phone, followed by an, "I knew it! I saw the two of you canoodling at the wake and I knew something was going on!" 

Jaime pleaded with the Seven for patience and endured the rest of her gloating before getting Genna to promise to pick out a suitable bride's cloak and bring it with her the next day to King's Landing. Then Jaime immediately called Pia to find out where the Lannister Enterprises jet was, because he had just promised Genna he would send it for her. 

When he got off the phone, Brienne was talking with Sansa, Margaery and Cat about her wedding dress. _I'm getting married to Brienne in two days._ The stupid smile was back on his face again.

*~*~*~*~*

The two days went by like a tornado. Jamie went to the office from Brienne's apartment and spent a good portion of the morning working with Pia to shift his schedule around without letting anyone know the real reason. Pia was muttering about another round of complaints coming in, so Jaime decided it would be prudent to invite her to the wedding. 

She also offered to take his suit to the cleaners so it would be ready, and Jaime moved to the next item on his list when he drove over to his father's home in the afternoon. He had the keys and the information about how to get into the vault provided by his father's attorney in his pocket. 

He had a few memories of coming down here as a child to look at the boxes of jewels with Cersei, who had always been eager to look over the treasures in the vault. Jaime had been more interested in some of the old weapons stored there, but this time he turned his attention to the jewelry case. He felt a brief pang of sadness that most of his mother's jewelry had gone to Cersei. He would rather have liked to offer Brienne something of his mother's now.

He found a ring for himself almost right away. It was several generations old, he suspected, gold band with stars etched into the metal, and the fit was fairly close already. 

The women's rings were not promising, initially. What little jewelry he'd seen Brienne wear had been fairly plain, plus he was certain she wouldn't want a heavy set of rocks weighing her hands down all the time. But there were, as Tyrion and Pia had both pointed out, expectations of the wife of a Lannister and a queen and the kind of jewels she would be seen wearing. 

He found the wedding ring first. It was deceptively simple – a large ruby, as almost everything was, set in an elegant gold band that showed its age through some mild tarnishing. But when Jaime lifted the ring up to the light, even he could tell the stone was a particularly flawless gem. Two emeralds guarded either side, also perfect in coloring. He had been thinking of trying to find a sapphire somewhere, but looking at the ring, he wanted to see it on Brienne's finger, marking her as a lion to anyone who looked.

Which was not a thought he was going to share with anyone, at least not any time soon. 

He found another ring, more suitable for an engagement ring, narrow with three comparatively-modest diamonds on the top. Engagement or promise rings had gone in and out of fashion over time, but those same expectations - "bling" as Tyrion had described it - would apply to this as well. 

He took the rings to the jeweler to be cleaned and fitted the next morning, then he and Brienne went back to her apartment with his Uncle Kevan, who had persuaded them into signing a pre-nuptial agreement. Jaime had resisted at first, as it felt like a capitulation before they even had the wedding. Kevan had pointed out the agreement, in addition to protecting them both, would make it clear that the wedding was not an act of reckless impulse. In the unlikely event of a legal challenge, it would work in their favor. 

The agreement was short, at least, and when it was signed and Kevan had gone over the marriage license with them, the legalities were taken care of. Jaime had barely two minutes to talk to Brienne alone before she was whisked off for a dress fitting, making it the last time he would see her until they met in the sept the next day. 

Tyrion and Margaery had formed a united front insisting that they make some sort of effort at a typical night-before-the-wedding separation between the women and the men. Brienne would likely have the easier time of it. Jaime at least trusted the women not to plan anything over the top while Brienne was still grieving her father.

He was also absolutely sure that at least some of his own guests were going to end up at a strip club before the evening was over, but thankfully the actual bachelor dinner was just that. Tyrion reserved a private room at an old brew pub that he and Jaime had gone to before. 

Jaime was at the bar with Addam, who had flown in that afternoon, as well as a few other people when Ned Stark showed up and took the seat to Jaime's left. Ned ordered an ale from the bartender, looking profoundly uncomfortable, while Addam, the dirty traitor, picked that moment to use the restroom, leaving Jaime alone. 

"Thanks for coming," seemed to be the most innocuous thing Jaime could think to say.

"Cat's idea," Ned muttered, taking a large drink.

Of course. Jaime took a sip of his own beverage. 

The reply gave Jaime an idea, though. As Ned seemed to be gearing up to say something else, Jaime swallowed his mouthful of ale and said, "If you're here to deliver the speech, don't worry, it's been taken care of."

Now Ned looked amused. "The speech?"

"The 'if you hurt her they'll never find your body' speech," Jaime explained. "I can tell you that your wife and both of your daughters have already said it, so message delivered. And frankly, I'm more frightened of Arya than I am of the rest of you put together, so there's no need to waste your energy."

Ned actually snorted. "That's fair." He stared at the wall behind the bar for a moment and then sighed. "Fine, I'll let that go. But I also came to apologize." 

Of all the things that might have been said in that moment, that was the last thing Jaime was expecting. It took him a minute of gaping like a fish before he could stammer, "For what?"

"I talked to Brynden. At your father's funeral." Apparently a lot had happened during that funeral while Jaime was occupied.

"I was surprised you came," Jaime admitted. 

"I wasn't intending to. Then Cat found out that both Sansa and Arya were going, for your sake." It wasn't that Jaime hadn't known that was why both Stark girls had been at the funeral, but hearing it stated out loud, and by their father, made him shift uneasily. Ned looked annoyed. "Whatever my feelings about your father or you, I've never forgotten that you protected Sansa from that fucker Ramsay Bolton, Jaime."

Now it was Jaime's turn to stare at the wall. 

Ned went on, "I was surprised Brynden was there. I didn't realize you knew each other at all. He, well, he didn't tell me much, but he did let me know it was foolish of me to believe that a Targaryen, any Targaryen, was some sort of innocent victim, no matter what the circumstances looked like." 

Jaime's eyes shut, his jaw clenching. Thankfully the flashback was short, only a few seconds, before he was back in the bar. 

If Ned noticed his reaction, he didn't say anything. "I should've asked. Brynden, or you. Someone. I know better than to take the word of a Targaryen about anything, no matter who else might have been involved." He leaned back a little and held out his right hand. Jaime shook it, wondering if he'd been hit in the head recently without realizing it. 

Ned just nodded, finished his drink, and went to talk to some of the others who had just arrived at the bar.

So Jaime had that to chew on through dinner. At least it distracted him from the nerves bubbling in his stomach. 

_Brienne agreed to marry me and Ned Stark apologized to me. I should buy a lottery ticket._

*~*~*~*~*

Early the next morning, after a few hours of restless sleep, Jaime got out of bed and went to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. The sun was up and it looked like the weather would be crisp but clear for his wedding day.

His wedding day.

He was getting married to Brienne _today_.

Since it was the Sabbath, the ceremony wouldn't be until afternoon, which just left even more time to fill, unfortunately.

He choked down some breakfast, then headed to the gym in Tyrion's building and got on the treadmill, channeling the nervous energy in his body into an extremely long run. His legs felt rubbery when he finally stopped. 

He showered and washed his hair, then stood in the guest bathroom, contemplating his reflection. His hair had grown out in the last month, but there hadn't been time for a haircut between all the other arrangements. Should he shave? Maybe at least trim his facial hair? He had never asked Brienne directly if she liked his beard. Also there was a difference between appreciating how it looked and having to kiss him like this. Though she hadn't objected the other day when they were more or less making out on her couch. 

Tripping on the heels of that thought was the memory of her reddened lips, and ideas for other places on her body he could leave marks from his beard on her skin. 

He gripped the edge of the sink. Not the time for that, he reminded himself. Wedding, throne, living arrangements, all of those things had to be dealt with first. He'd cut the rest of his fingers off his hand if Brienne ever thought he expected anything from her just because they were legally married, so he was going to keep his lustful thoughts to himself. 

Tyrion rapped on the door. "Jaime? You awake in there?"

Jaime swung the door open, since he had a towel wrapped around his waist. "Just contemplating whether I should trim this up?"

"No," Tyrion said decisively. "That's like cutting your own hair the night before school pictures. You will fuck it up and then you and Brienne will have to live with terrible photos of your wedding forever."

"Your faith in me is such a comfort, little brother." 

"Always. Now stop mooning over your handsome visage. You still need to pack."

Time seemed to speed up after that. Jaime threw some of his belongings into a suitcase, enough to get him through the hotel tonight and a couple days on Tarth. Pia had gotten his suit back, so Jaime slipped on the pants and white shirt, as well as the vest, which he normally wouldn't have bothered with for the office. After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the cufflinks his father had given him when he turned 21, figuring one small concession to the Lannister legacy wasn't too much.

Tyrion, dressed in a dark charcoal suit of his own, made sure Jaime's tie was straight, put a top hat on his own curly head ("how many occasions to I have where I get to wear this?") and led the way to the car. Seeing Bronn in a suit was always strange, and Jaime relieved some of his anxiety by joining together with Tyrion to mock him for it on the meandering drive, which Bronn took to ensure they weren't followed.

The sept was about a century old, in an upscale corner of the city. A handful of people were gathered in the pews when Jaime and Tyrion entered. Catelyn waylaid them near the doors, which meant Brienne was already there. 

She was holding a plastic box. "It's a boutonniere, Margaery got it when she ordered the flowers." Jaime held still while Catelyn took the delicate pink and white flower out of the box. "It's called a Maiden's Star. Apparently they grow in the mountains of Tarth in the spring. And since the boutonniere is supposed to signify the ties of the groom to the bride's house…" Jaime grinned. Coupled with the blue suit, the flower meant he was wearing Tarth colors, which was perfectly fine by him.

Cat pinned the flower in place and then smoothed down the front of his jacket absently. The maternal gesture caused Jaime's throat to tighten, even if Cat was only a few years older than him. He could imagine his mother standing there, checking his tie and making sure he was presentable for his wedding. He hoped Joanna approved of his choice, that she would have loved Brienne. 

He reached up and squeezed Catelyn's hand. "Thank you. For everything."

Tyrion prudently took a few steps away to greet Addam. 

"It's been a lot, for both of you," Catelyn said, looking up at him like she could see right through him. "Jaime, just promise me you'll be… Brienne always tries to be so strong for everyone else, you know how she is-"

"I do." His voice shook. He remembered Brienne fighting him the day of Galladon's funeral, the way she had finally fallen apart in his arms. "I'll take care of her," he promised. He wasn't just speaking to Catelyn, but to Galladon, to Selwyn, to Brienne's mother and his own.

"Take care of each other," Catelyn said, her voice warm. "That's what marriage is. Building something together, day by day, until it's strong enough to weather anything." 

He could envision it easily with Brienne and he wanted it with every fiber of his being. 

Genna appeared a minute later and then it was a whirlwind of greeting people and walking through the building to stand near the front of the sept with Tyrion and Addam. Catelyn sat in the front row on the Mother's side, with Robb next to her. The two younger boys were beside Robb, with Arya corralling them on the other end of the row. She grinned at Jaime and gave him a thumbs-up. 

In the row behind them was Renly, seated beside Loras Tyrell. Jaime got a shock when he realized the elderly woman next to Loras was Olenna Tyrell herself. A few other friends of Brienne's were filling in the pew behind the Tyrells.

Genna and Kevan were on the Father's altar side, and behind them were some of Jaime's comrades, including Arthur and Brynden, while Pia sat in the back. Jaime appreciated the show of support from Tully, given how small the groom's side of the sept was. There were some Lannister cousins he wouldn't have minded inviting but he didn't trust any of them not to have immediately called Cersei, and Jaime wouldn't risk the possibility of his sister ruining his wedding day for anything.

Seven help him, this was really happening. 

Jaime turned his attention to the building, trying to calm his nerves. The interior was light and bright from the sunshine, and in between the altars of the Father and Mother was a carving attached to the wall, resembling a weirwood tree. Jaime had to smile. That's what he got for letting the Starks choose the sept, he supposed. 

The septon appeared, shook Jaime's hand, and then a photographer was snapping pictures as a musician began to play a guitar and everyone turned to look at the back of the sept.

Jaime flashed a glance at Tyrion. "Yes, they all signed NDAs, I'm not an idiot," Tyrion said under his breath.

Reassured, Jaime focused on the procession. Margaery came first, in a lacy pink gown that emphasized her delicate curves. She was holding a basket and scattering flower petals on the carpet. She gave Jaime a wink when she reached the front and took her place across from Addam. 

Sansa came next. Her gown was a pale blue and a completely different style from Margaery's, given that there had been no time to have coordinated gowns made, but she looked regal as she walked down the aisle, also scattering flowers.

Then Brienne came into view, on Ned's arm, and Jaime lost his breath.

Her gown was a deep, rich blue, not quite enough to match her eyes but that was probably impossible. The fabric draped along her body and flowed gracefully around her legs. She looked like a goddess. The bridal cloak hung over her shoulders, and she had a bouquet of the pink Maiden's Stars mixed with white lilies Jaime would bet had come from the private family collection at Highgarden. 

Everything else faded from his mind as he looked at her face. Her eyes were watering and he knew that it wasn't from happy tears.

He berated himself silently. If he'd been braver, if he'd told Brienne how he felt about her earlier, they might have made it here sooner. They might have had time to fully plan a wedding, and she might have been able to walk into the sept in Evenfall on her father's arm. 

He thought of Catelyn's words from a few minutes ago. When Brienne and Ned reached the front, Jaime ignored the rules and stepped forward, reaching for her and making her look at him. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. 

He wiped the tears gently away with his thumbs. "It's all right." Brienne leaned her forehead against his for a moment, both of them just breathing, until she straightened up and nodded at him.

Jaime moved back and glanced at the septon, who offered a sympathetic smile and began. But when he reached the part about who came to escort the bride, Ned's voice was gruff as he said he stood in the place of "Selwyn, of house Tarth" as his witness. Brienne's eyes weren't the only ones that were wet as the two embraced and Ned took a seat next to his wife.

Jaime was grateful some of the more sexist parts of the ceremony had changed. Instead of Ned placing Brienne's hand in her husband's, like handing over a possession, Jaime held his right hand out to her and let Brienne grasp it of her own volition. 

He zoned out during the ceremony looking at her, the prayers to each of the Seven droning on, until they reached the cloaking. Sansa and Margaery helped Brienne unlace her cloak and they lifted it carefully away. Meanwhile Addam and Tyrion were unfolding the Lannister cloak. Jaime took one look at it and glared at Genna, who just smiled at him. He should have expected this, really. Genna was probably the most well-adjusted member of their family, but she had as much Lannister pride as any of them.

The cloak was so heavy Addam had to help Jaime lift it up. It was rich red fabric, covered in gold embroidery and jewels everywhere they could possibly fit. Brienne's eyes widened comically as the weight of it landed on her shoulders. Jaime could hear Tyrion smothering a laugh behind him. 

The rings came next. Brienne was already wearing the engagement ring, which he had given to her when they had the rings fitted at the jeweler's the day before. Jaime slipped the wedding band onto her finger and raised her hand to his lips. Brienne had to push a bit harder to get the gold band around his ring finger, but once it was there, he knew he would never take it off again. 

Finally their hands were bound with a ribbon and they said their final vows to each other. Brienne was clasping his hand tightly as Jaime promised, "I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days." 

The septon called for the seal of the vows, and Jaime cupped his new wife's cheek gently with his fingers. "With this kiss, I pledge my love," he recited in unison with Brienne, then he kissed her. He didn't rush it. A reminder to everyone, Brienne included, that this was not merely a political alliance or an act of expedience. She kissed him back and he grinned at the blush on her face when he pulled away.

They were quickly surrounded by the guests, who then were shooed out of the way so the photographer, who had been motionless during the ceremony, could recreate the main steps of the wedding for the pictures without disrupting anything.

Brienne squeezed his hand, a small smile on her face. "Now I know why you proposed to me. I was the only woman you knew who wouldn't collapse under the weight of this cloak." 

He let out a theatrical sigh. "Alas, wench, you've figured out the Lannister secret. I guess the jig is up." 

She smiled at that, which resulted in pictures that probably looked more cheerful than the actual ceremony.

Once the photos were done and all the papers had been signed, they collected their belongings and ducked out the back of the sept and into Brienne's car. They were due at the house in half an hour for the reception to start, but Brienne slumped in the backseat as they started driving. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I'm tired. I didn't sleep much. I haven't been sleeping much." 

"Do you want to go somewhere for a bit?"

"No, I just… I don't know. I just want to sit and be quiet for a bit and not have to be…"

"On stage all the time?"

"Yes. That." 

"We can do that. Pod, can you get onto the highway and take the loop around the city? There shouldn't be much traffic today, so we won't get stuck." 

"Jaime, we can't keep everyone waiting." 

"It's our party, so yes we can. Besides, knowing Tyrion I'm sure there'll be plenty of alcohol and snacks to keep them entertained until we show up." He pulled out his phone and texted his brother. 

Podrick maneuvered the car onto the highway and silence descended. Brienne let herself lean all the way back into the seat and after a minute, her eyes closed. Jaime felt himself starting to nod off as well. He had to smile. Most newly-wed couples were probably not taking quiet naps together in the car after the wedding.

He knew he hadn't slept very long, just a cat nap. When he opened his eyes, he just watched Brienne until she blinked herself awake a short while later. 

The wedding feast was restrained, given the circumstances. They still had their first dance as husband and wife – their first dance together ever, in fact – later in the evening. Jaime knew from a long ago conversation with Galladon that the Tarths and the Lannisters both made their children learn formal ballroom dancing, a custom among a lot of the old houses. However, in this instance, Jaime just swayed back and forth on the makeshift dance floor while Brienne flushed and stared at his shoulder. 

They did skip the traditional dance with the parents, and there was no throwing of the bouquet or garter, though Tyrion and Sansa both offered heartfelt toasts to the bride and groom. Tyrion had summoned up a first rate spread of food complete with a tiered wedding cake. The newlyweds cut a slice of the cake together and Brienne grabbed two forks before anyone could even joke about using their fingers. 

All in all it was stressful and Jaime was relieved when it grew late enough to reasonably beg off since the jet was going to take them to Tarth early the next morning. 

Their hotel room was a suite in one of the nicest hotels in the city, but not, thankfully, the honeymoon suite. There were no decorations or any indication of it being a wedding night in the room either. 

Brienne said she wanted to take a shower, so Jaime ordered some sandwiches from room service. She hadn't eaten much during the reception and said she wasn't hungry, but when he emerged from taking his own shower, half of one of the sandwiches he hadn't touched was gone. 

Brienne was sitting on the end of the bed, flipping through the television channels. "The news doesn't seem to have caught on to us yet," she reported. 

"Give it a day," Jaime said. She made a face. 

Once the television was off Brienne returned from brushing her teeth and paused, her cheeks turning pink. "Um, did you have a side? Of the bed?"

Oh. "I've been in military cots or Tyrion's guest bed for years, so whichever side you don't want."

"All right. I'm just going to-" She huffed, more at herself than at him, and climbed into bed.

Once he was done in the bathroom he stood next to the unoccupied side of the bed. Brienne was lying down with her back to him. She still looked stiff. "Would you rather I sleep on the couch in the other room?" 

"No," she said quickly, then sighed. "It's just, I'm not used to this. I know you aren't either. It's just all… a lot." 

He couldn't argue with that. He slipped into the bed and stretched out on his back. At least the mattress was long enough that his feet didn't hang off the bottom. 

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" he asked before shutting off the light.

"Yes." 

He wanted to reach over and touch her but feared it would make this even more awkward. "It'll be fine. We have the paperwork all in order. If Connington tries anything, he'll get to deal with Uncle Kevan and the army of Lannister lawyers. Not to mention Tyrion. Did he tell you he was up until all hours reading Tarth's constitution and case law?"

"Really?" Brienne craned her neck to look back at him, smiling. "I'm not sure why I'm even surprised at this point." 

"Me either. Now, you have a big day tomorrow, so get some sleep, wife."

It was the first time he'd called her that aloud and his heart gave a painfully hard beat in his chest. Then it happened again when Brienne said, softly, "Good night, husband."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Maiden's Star flower is something I invented for this story as far as I know.


	13. You call out my name like no one before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime accompanies his wife to Tarth to claim her throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks! The last chapter will be a short epilogue, so this is the wrap up. Thank you to everyone who commented, it helped me keep going against writer's block and all sorts of doubts.

Jaime distracted Brienne during the flight to Tarth by asking questions about the small council and the ceremony that would follow the morning meeting. He was dressed in his second-best suit, a charcoal gray fabric and a red tie with small blue stripes. The wedding ring on his finger kept catching his eye as he dressed. 

Brienne was in a black suit perfectly tailored to her frame, the skirt falling to just below her knees. She had mentioned a shopping trip with Margaery and Sansa when she had been in King's Landing following his father's funeral. 

He was relieved there were no press visible at the airport, but he knew it was a matter of time before word got out. 

They pulled up at an entrance gate to Evenfall that Jaime hadn't seen before. The Hall was actually three separate buildings, beginning with the oldest part, Evenfall proper. The sept and the small council chamber were both there. The "new hall" was still hundreds of years old but it was distinct from the original parts and currently housed the small staff that reported to the Evenstar as well as the museum gallery on the first floor, where Jaime had spent so much time on his first visit staring at Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail. Both of the marble buildings were only open to the public on certain days of the year.

The last part of the complex was Evenfall Manor, the newest portion, which clung to the hillside slightly above the rest, built less than two hundred years earlier. The interior had been modernized, particularly the living areas. Jaime knew a room had been prepared for the husband Brienne had been planning to bring home, but he'd never been on that floor before. The guest room he had been put in on his previous visits was in another area of the building.

The courtyard they pulled into was bustling with activity. All of the people they passed stopped to bow or curtsy to Brienne and Jaime felt the curious stares burning into him as they went inside. 

One of the servants took charge of the luggage and after a brief pause to refresh themselves, Jaime followed Brienne as she made her way into the oldest part of the hall. 

Mr. Lowel, the castellan of Evenfall, was waiting for them outside the small council chamber. He was a trim, elegant man with short gray hair who had reminded Jaime uncomfortably of Tywin from their first encounter. He bowed to Brienne and darted a quick glance at Jaime. "Your Grace, welcome back. I gather everything is in order?"

"It is, Mr. Lowel, thank you. I believe you've met my husband, Jaime Lannister?" Jaime's heart thumped hard in his chest again. _Eventually I'll get used to being called that won't I? I almost hope not._

Lowel bowed and then shook Jaime's hand when he held it out. "Briefly, Your Grace. Mr. Lannister."

Jaime grimaced and then quickly wiped his expression. That was something that hadn't occurred to him until now. Lowel didn't seem the type of man willing to address him by his first name, or be willing to use "Mr. Jaime" as some of the staff at Lannister Enterprises did. He was either going to have to get used to it fast or find something else to for them to call him. "Mr. Lowel." 

"Are they all here?"

"The Small Council awaits Her Grace's arrival," Lowel said formally. Then he leaned slightly forward, a hint of humor in his face that made Jaime feel more fondly toward the man. "They're in quite a tizzy from the rumors of who your new husband is, majesty." 

"I'm not surprised," Brienne murmured. Her fingers wrapped around Jaime's. "But he is my husband, by my choice, Mr. Lowel. I'll not stand for any questioning of my decision on this matter."

Lowel nodded, either in agreement or approval, Jaime didn't know or particularly care. "Very good, ma'am. Shall we proceed?"

Brienne looked over at him. "Are you ready?" 

Jaime had the easy part here so he nodded. "Whenever you are." 

Lowel transitioned smoothly into his formal role again. "I shall enter the chamber and announce Her Grace, who will then enter. Mr. Lannister, you will follow behind and be seated at the table next to Her Grace. No one will sit until after she does." 

Brienne was still watching him. There was a difference between knowing that marrying Brienne meant he would be trailing behind her and actually doing it, but he found it didn't trouble him any. He squeezed her hand and then let go, moving slightly behind her on her left side. 

She squared her shoulders like she was going into battle as Lowel opened the door. 

Tarth's Small Council was indeed small. Lowel was present as Castellan of Evenfall. The High Septon of Tarth and the Lord Chamberlain of the parliament were both automatically members of the Council, with the other three members being elected from members of parliament. Though as Brienne had explained it, most of the time the positions were unofficially inherited, not unlike parliament seats both here and across Westeros. 

Jaime walked confidently behind Brienne as her heels clacked against the stone floor, taking no small amount of pleasure at how Ron Connington looked like he was sucking a lemon. 

They all stood around the table as the septon, wrinkled and white-haired as Jaime remembered, recited a prayer, then Brienne sat, followed by the rest of them, and the meeting began. It was a formal event, so every topic had to be introduced and opened for discussion, with motions and voting every other minute. It was beyond tedious and Jaime was grateful he wasn't going to have to be dealing with this process on a regular basis. Business meetings were bad enough. 

He looked around as they went through the required steps. Aside from Connington, Jaime didn't think any of the men on the Council was under 60. He wondered if it was appropriate for Brienne to suggest some new blood join her Small Council, since they were her primary advisors? He put the idea aside to revisit at a later time.

Finally the motion carried and the Small Council recognized that Brienne, having fulfilled all requirements under Tarth's laws, was queen. There was a round of polite clapping at that, then Lowel brought them back to the next item on the agenda. 

"Our next task, gentlemen, is to discuss the title of Her Grace's husband, Mr. Jaime Lannister. Do I have a second to open the discussion?" 

Brienne had warned him this was likely. Jaime opened his mouth but Brienne put a hand on his arm under the table until one of the other men seconded the motion and the topic was on the floor. Then Brienne spoke before he could. 

"Gentlemen, I move to table this topic indefinitely." 

All eyes went from Brienne to him. Jaime met their confused looks with Lannister pride. He knew this was what Hyle Hunt had been after and he was glad to know it wasn't Cunt sitting in this chair next to Brienne right now, no matter what happened. 

The Chamberlain looked around the table, then back at Jaime. "Mr. Lannister, do you… is it not your intention to be crowned alongside Her Grace?"

"It is not. Her Grace is queen of Tarth by right of birth. I have no claim to her island or its people." 

The disbelief in the room was palpable and Jaime began to rage inwardly. Next to him, Brienne was as cold and still as the marble in the columns. "But by marrying Her Grace, you have the right-" one of the others started.

"By marrying Her Grace I became her husband. That's more than enough of a title for any man," he snarled, daring any of them to contradict him.

"You can't change your mind about this," Connington told him flatly. "Whatever you choose now, you'll have to live with it."

"The septon said something similar during our wedding but he was far more polite about it," Jaime shot back. 

"Gentlemen," Lowel interrupted. He turned to Jaime. "Mr. Lannister, I respect your decision but traditionally, spouses of sitting monarchs of Tarth have taken some sort of royal title. Most have been crowned as queens of Tarth, as Her Grace's mother was, or Lady of Evenfall." 

"It's unfortunate it's not a few hundred years ago. Then he would've been Lord of Casterly Rock in his own right," one of the men said, his voice fairly dripping with contempt. 

Jaime turned to Brienne. "Perhaps Her Grace could knight me? I rather like the sound of Ser Jaime." 

"Only because it would be your childhood dream come true," Brienne said, finally cracking a small smile. 

"I'm not sure I've earned it, to be honest." He covered Brienne's hand with his and looked at the group, who were watching the affection between them in various states of discomfort. 

Lowel pressed on. "If you have no intention to claim the title of king, then the most obvious choice is for the council to affirm you as a prince of Tarth." 

"He's not royal in his own right, as he said himself," Connington said. "I'm not sure he's eligible to be a prince."

"What would you suggest then?"

Connington gave Jaime a mean smile. "Prince Consort." 

Jaime could feel Brienne's face heating, but he merely squeezed her fingers, giving Connington a full-blown Lannister smirk. "I rather like that, actually." He knew Connington meant it as a shot against Jaime's male ego, but since he didn't really have one, he hardly cared. Besides, "consort" sounded vaguely dirty enough to be amusing.

If Tywin Lannister had still been alive, his son being named a Consort to anyone probably would have caused the stroke. 

"Gentlemen, as I said, I have no interest in claiming any title, but if it will make things easier for Her Grace, I will accept the title of Prince Consort. Otherwise, you can refer to me by my rank. Although I have retired, that is a title I have fully earned." He kept his voice even but looked straight at Connington as he spoke. 

The third man, who hadn't spoken before then, put a formal motion forward and Jaime's title was adopted. Finally, they concluded the meeting and officially adjourned. Jaime met the mingled looks of confusion and distrust with his best Lannister glare. The septon hurried - as much as a man of his age was able - over to them. 

"Your Grace, Your Highness, I need to go prepare the sept for the ceremony. If you will excuse me?"

Brienne nodded. Jaime leaned toward her, his voice pitched for her ears only. "I assume he's rushing to order them to remove the second throne intended for me." 

"No doubt." 

After some additional instructions from Lowel, Jaime followed the other men down two different staircases and along a corridor until they separated from Brienne to enter the sept. It was packed, with rows of people standing around the edges. It looked like the entire household had come to witness their new queen being crowned. 

The formal, public coronation would be months later, after a mourning period for Selwyn. Jaime supposed it was a perk of being a member of the household or Tarth's parliament to get to be here for this moment. He walked to the empty chair at the end of the front row, but before he could sit down, someone began to sing and the rest of the seated guests rose. 

The side door opened and Brienne walked in, her head held high and her posture rigid. She took measured steps to the front of the sept, standing before the septon, who was between her and the ornately carved wooden chair that had been placed in between the altars of the Father and Mother.

The prayers were mercifully brief, then the septon stepped aside and Brienne walked forward, turned to face the room, and sat carefully down on the chair.

_Her throne_ , Jaime thought, his throat tight. 

Brienne spoke her vows, her voice probably too low to be heard properly around the room, but once they were done, the septon placed a simple silver crown on her head. The metal had suns and moons etched into the surface, but it was bare of jewels. Jaime thought that his father would have been full of contempt, but the crown suited Brienne's personality. 

After another prayer and a final hymn, the septon presented Brienne to the assembly as their queen. There was an enthusiastic round of applause and Brienne stood while the people shouted "The Queen of Tarth!" until the rafters rang with the sound.

The septon turned to Jaime and he stepped forward and offered Brienne his right arm as he was introduced to the room as, "His Highness, Jaime Lannister, the Prince Consort." A murmur swept through the room. Brienne's grip on his arm tightened, and he could see her chin quivering with emotion she was holding at bay. 

He covered her hand with his free one and escorted her through the room. Everyone bowed or curtsied to them as they went. Some of the older staff were wiping away tears. It had to be something, to see a child you had watched grow up become your new sovereign, and the memory of Galladon was probably close to the surface for many of them.

There was a receiving line in the foyer, though with the limited guest list it didn't take long to get through. Then came the part Jaime was dreading the most. 

Outside the main doors of the Hall, a gaggle of reporters and photographers were waiting to take the first pictures of the new Queen of Tarth. Brienne didn't need to speak, at least, but the press attention would get the word out about their marriage. Jaime put on his best public face and escorted her as Lowel introduced them. The reporters came alive as they stepped outside, and when the Lannister name got mentioned, it seemed the clicks from the cameras reached a frenzy and despite there being no podium or microphones, some of the reporters began to shout questions. They started with the obvious but quickly grew more disrespectful, the reporters trying to get a rise out of them, and Jaime was grateful to Lowel when the man called an end to the moment and Goodwin and Podrick hustled them back inside. 

Once the doors were shut, Brienne moved off to a small waiting room and carefully smoothed a hand over her hair. "That's that, then."

He nodded. "Look on the bright side. We just handed all of them the scoop of their careers."

They ate luncheon with the small council members and with the formalities finally concluded, were able to retire to their rooms. Brienne went into the queen's suite while Jaime was shown to an adjoining bedroom. It was spacious and richly decorated, with a door to a private bath and another that opened into the main sitting room of Brienne's rooms. Jaime thought of Hyle the Cunt being the one occupying these rooms and wanted to punch the man all over again. 

Jaime immediately took off his coat and tie and unfastened his cufflinks to roll his sleeves up. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself missing his basic daily uniform, but at the moment he wanted to rip the suit off entirely. 

His belongings had been unpacked by some enterprising maid, so he was surprised when he wandered into the spacious sitting room and then to the other bedroom door and found his wife unpacking her suitcase. "How did the staff unpack my things but not yours?"

Brienne jumped at the interruption. "I forbade anyone from unpacking my belongings after I came home on break from college the first time and found Roelle snooping through my suitcase." Jaime growled, audibly. She shot him a grateful look and then tucked the shirt she was holding into a drawer. "I'll have to find a replacement. Lowel's duty as the castellan is for the historic parts of the buildings and the role in government. The housekeeping is a separate task."

"We'll have to find a replacement," Jaime corrected her. "And I'm sure someone amongst your extensive network of friends will know someone, Your Grace."

"Don't." She flinched at the sharpness in her voice. More quietly she said, "Don't call me that, please. Not when we're not in public." 

He wanted very badly to pull her into his arms and belatedly remembered he could do that now. He was allowed to hug his wife and comfort her, so he stepped into the room and slid an arm around her waist. Brienne leaned her forehead against his shoulder, sinking into his embrace, and for several minutes they just stood there together.

There was a lot they still had to deal with, he knew. How to build a marriage with them living in separate cities, his company, her rule, and a lot of steps in their relationship they had missed due to the circumstances. He wondered what the rules were for dating the person you were already married to. Many things still needed to be said, too, by both of them. But with Brienne in his arms, Jaime felt sure they could handle anything else the world decided to throw at them. 

Eventually she let out a sigh and straightened up. "Do you want to lie down for a while?" Jaime asked. "You didn't sleep much last night."

It was a statement of fact, given that he hadn't slept all that well either and thus had felt her tossing and turning, but the reminder that they had shared a bed the night before made Brienne blush. "I don't know that I could sleep right now," she admitted.

"Then what about a tour? I should get to know my new home." He held out his right hand. Brienne took it, threading her fingers through his, and lead him out of the room.


End file.
